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IN THE DAT OF BATTLE 


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I 















































IN THE DAY OF BATTLE 

A ROMANCE 



.JOHN A. STETJART 

II 

AUTHOR OF “KILGROOM: A STORY OF IRELAND,” ETC. 


Both through the lore of the muses and the higher learning have I 
sped, and after turning over many a maxim, many a theme, I have found 
that naught is mightier than Necessity. 

The Alcestis of Euripides. 



F. TENNYSON NEELY 


CHICAGO 


1894 


NEW YORK 



\ 


Copyright by 
F. TENNYSON NEELY 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I.— A Kinsman and an Enemy, 

II.— A Personage of Vast Importance, 

III. — A Crisis and a Surprise, 

IV. — The Elms— A Momentous Decision, 

V.— The Search for Donald Gordon, 

VI. —Disenchantment and Despair, 

VII. — I abandon Hope, 

VIII.— A Great Surprise, 

IX.— My Visitor takes Stock, . / 

X.— Alone Once More, . 

XI.— Settling Accounts, 

XII. —Fighting for the Booty, 

XIII. — In the Hands of the Corsairs, 

XIV. — Still at Odds with Fortune, 

XV.— On Trial for my Life, 

XVI. —Momentous Intelligence— My Life 
the Balance, 

XVII.— A Sudden Change of Front, . 
XVIII.— The March, % 

XIX.— Amood Sinn’s Bravery, . 


Han 


GS 


PAGE 

. 7 


. 40 
. 49 
. 62 
. 73 
. 88 
. 103 
. 112 
. 118 
. 124 
. 135 
. 145 
. 157 
. 171 
in 

. 185 
. 199 
. 210 
090 


6 * CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XX.— The Battle, . .... 234 

XXI.— The Flight, 246 

XXII.— Despair and Hope, 258 

XXIII.— Bedouins, 270 

XXIV.— In Amood Sinn’s Palace, .... 282 
XXV.— The Indian Princess Proves a Source of 

Mystery, 294 

XXVI.— The Holy City, 307 

XXVII.— Arafat and the Caaba— Trapped, . . 319 

XXVIII.— A Song in the Night, 341 

XXIX.— Home— The Vulture’s Claws Pared, . . 369 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


CHAPTER I. 

A KINSMAN AND AN ENEMY. 

After five and forty years, they tell me, turbulent 
students of the University of Edinburgh listen with 
envy to stories of the battles of Peter Clephane and 
Angus Glenrae. To one whose sun is far past its 
meridian, and who ought rather to be engaged with 
his evening prayer than his morning folly, ungra- 
cious memories of headlong, random youth can af- 
ford little matter of consolation and none of pride. 

Nor will such reminiscences be revived here, save 
in so far as they are essential in giving clearness and 
coherency to the motive and events of this history. 
One’s own good name is a jewel that needs delicate 
and discreet handling. Easily defaced, it is exceed- 
ingly hard to repair, and, what is worse, the utmost 
skill in patching is apt to leave traces of the blemish 
the owner would fain conceal. Moreover, he were 
infected by an odd malice towards himself who would 
gratuitously flaunt his failings in the public eye. To 
such a person belongs by birthright the motley coat 
and fool’s cap, however zealously he may masquer- 
ade in the guise of a moralist. 

On the other hand, the honest historian will tell 
the truth, the naked ungraced truth, though he turn 
crimson in the telling. No fear of present pain, no 
hankering after ulterior glory, will induce him to 
play the hazardous and futile game of juggling his 
part and trying to give delinquencies a heroic and 


8 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


virtuous colouring. For, not to soar into ethical re- 
gions (where indeed we might not feel at home), the 
open course is least likely to give occasion of repent- 
ance. That experimental philosopher who tried 
both ways and found honesty the best policy, settled 
once and for ever a troublesome question. An en- 
lightened race now discerns that death itself is not 
more certain than the ultimate confusion of the 
hypocrite. 

Let me frankly own then, it causes me no surprise 
to learn that the feud between Peter and myself is 
still a rife theme in the mouths of our successors; 
for if fervency of hate could ensure remembrance of 
strife ours might well be immortal. Jonathan and 
David made a covenant of love, and ardently strove 
to keep it; we swore vows of vengeance, and sacri- 
ficed much to taste the sweetness of performing them. 

They who seek diligently find. It is astonishing 
how frequently we found the opportunity of catch- 
ing each other on thS hip and feeding fat our mutual 
grudge. Had we been half as assiduous in our 
studies as we were in planning our disreputable 
frays, we should have left the University with the 
renown of Admirable Crichtons. But so far as I 
have ever learned, old heads seldom adorn young 
shoulders. When the phenomenon becomes common 
the millennium may be expected to be at hand. 

It is scarcely necessary to say that the ends to 
which we devoted our energies speedily brought us 
under the blackest ban of constituted authority. 
Never before or since can guilt have been affrighted 
with direr threats and predictions than fell daily to 
our lot. Almost as regularly as the sun appeared in 
the heavens, we were comforted by appalling lec- 
tures on our crimes, and harrowing prophecies of the 
inevitable fate of young reprobates who opened a 
career of insubordination, rebellion, and general 
wickedness by setting their preceptors at naught. 

“ It will be a prison crop and three yards of hemp 
rope before all’s done,” roared a red-faced professor 


A KINSMAN AND AN ENEMY. 


9 


one day, when we had carried our quarrel into the 
class-room ; and it was felt that he had condensed 
the prevailing opinion into a sentence. I, being the 
greater transgressor (from causes which may pres- 
ently be appreciated), had to endure the fiercer out- 
bursts of wrath. 

I But the censors might have saved their breath. If 
these warnings had any effect at all on Peter and me 
it was but to stimulate and embitter our enmity ; for 
with the stubbornness of original sin we cherished it 
the more the more it brought us into disrepute. 
There are certain moods in which admonition but 
fans into flame the spark of rebellion that lies in 
every unregenerate human bosom. Such a mood, I 
fear, was ours. Defiant, scornful, and impenitent, 
we saw without compunction the appealing looks, the 
mortification, the tempests of choler, resulting in 
apoplectic faces and shaken nerves of the Senatus 
Academicus; and were scarcely sorry when we 
caused a member of that august and illustrious body 
a fit that nearly put blood on our heads. For the 
living devil was rampant within us, and our sins 
which were as scarlet were a thing of exultation. 
One of us, at least, was to suffer grievously for it ; 
and to learn, in bitterness of spirit and in the dust, 
what it is to have the neck of his pride broken. 
Looking back my wonder is that we were not igno- 
miniously expelled; a little while longer, and that 
course would doubtless have been adopted. But be- 
fore the long-suffering authorities could make up 
their minds to resort to extreme measures, destiny 
took the matter out of their hands. 

Peter and I were kinsmen, and the deadlier ene- 
mies on that account. We had come up in the same 
month of the same year to pursue our studies — as 
college pastimes are ironically styled — he from Dun- 
dee, I from a remote part of the Highlands ; and as 
we had never previously met nor even heard of each 
other save by vague and casual reports, our introduc- 
tion was that of strangers. For cousins, the meeting 


10 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


was not cordial. A town-bred exquisite and the sole 
heir of a lawyer with a big bank account and a safe 
full of mortgages, Peter had a lofty nose and proud 
stomach for all unfortunates who were not of the 
gilded court of mammon. 

Himself one of its shining ornaments, he was nat- 
urally a stickler for prerogative. Of what he reck- 
oned to be his due of subserviency, he would not 
abate a jot to save an empire ; rather would he sacri- 
fice an empire (were the stake possible) to gratify his 
vanity. Lusting for dominion with the unhallowed 
passion of the despot, he would have bartered his 
immortal soul to obtain it. An axiom often on his 
lips aptly expressed his philosophy. “ Sovereignty,” 
he would say with the air of an oracle, “ is to him 
who resolves to play first fiddle and acts on the resolu- 
tion. Study Alexander, Caesar, Cromwell, Napo- 
leon ; study the men who made themselves rulers of 
their fellows, and tell me the secret of their suprem- 
acy. The world is for him who can take it firmly by 
the nose and show that he is its master.’' 

In aiming at his own ideal he observed scarce more 
nicety of method than marked the conduct of his 
heroes. Itching with ambition, aggressive, arro- 
gant, hard of heart and of conscience, he had a spirit 
for any feat of audacity, any piece of tyranny that 
promised reward to self-love. Glorying in his 
guineas he was tremblingly jealous of the power 
they conferred; yet he exercised it, on the whole, 
with consummate tact. The fact is, nature and for- 
tune had both been uncommonly kind to him. One 
bestowed gifts, the other furnished tools and mate- 
rial. Between the man and his environment there 
existed that perfect harmony which results in suc- 
cess as inevitably as the rising of the sun results in 
light, or the spread of fire in conflagration. 

Though he was often in trouble for acts of unruli- 
ness and violence, he was not rash nor fiery. No 
touch of the Celtic weakness of impulsiveness or im- 
petuosity marred his character. On the contrary, a 


A KINSMAN AND AN ENEMY. 


11 


vulpine calculation and duplicity marked all his do- 
ings. He studied his friends minutely, not for the 
pleasure of knowing them, but for the purpose of 
using them; and he sneered at their shallowness 
while taking advantage of it. I do not believe he 
ever took a living soul thoroughly into his confidence; 
but an engaging manner, unrivalled ingenuity in 
dropping hints, and a dissimulation so exquisite that 
it wore the very face of veracity, gained him the 
credit of being frank with his friends. 

Resourceful and astute, he managed his dupes 
with admirable and unfailing skill. Knowing the 
distinguishing traits of each as if he had them in- 
scribed upon tablets, he easily avoided errors of pol- 
icy. The arts of the diplomatist and courtier, in- 
deed, were natural to him, and even I could not help 
admiring the perfect craft with which he suited 
word and act to the needs of the moment and the 
furtherance of his own designs. He could be conde- 
scending, affable, familiar, generous, whimsical, tol- 
erant, intolerant, conciliatory, cajoling, haughty, or 
arbitrary as might be expedient. Withal, though he 
employed his patronage entirely as a usurer who has 
a single eye to returns, his cunning got him the re- 
pute of a benefactor. And the extent of his gratui- 
ties gave him unquestioned power: for it is not in 
man, even in the adolescent student stage, to be a 
debtor and independent. 

When a vain head and a long purse are united, 
sycophancy grows rank. Quick as was his apprehen- 
sion ju such matters, Peter had barely time to real- 
ize the glories of his position, when he had a body of 
parasites fawning upon him, licking his hands like 
spaniels, scraping the earth before him like flunkies, 
and contending for a place under bis banner. Fed 
on the grossness of their flattery, his conceit waxed 
till the world outside of himself and his concerns ex- 
isted on sufferance. The little tyrant of a little 
clique assumed the strut and port of a universal dic- 
tator ; and there were times when he appeared to be 


12 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


of a mind to improve on his Roman model by blot- 
ting out the sun and putting the moon in his pocket. 
Assuredly were modesty a deadly disease, he might 
live for ever. 

Next to the business of receiving the adulation of 
his toadies, his main occupation was to prove, by the 
many means at his disposal, how despicable was the 
wretch who could not gratify spendthrift tastes or 
lacked the graces which a fashionable tailor alone 
imparts. That, too, he accomplished with his usual 
success. 

To the charmed inner circle of his worshippers I 
was never for a moment admitted. Yet none of 
those who basked in his favours touched him so 
closely as I did, or yielded him so keen a pleasure! 
They flattered, but I served as target for his wit, an 
unenviable capacity that was as gratifying to him 
^s it was galling to me. Never an opportunity of 
vexing me did he miss; not once during the two 
years we were together did he forego the slightest 
chance of taunting and ridiculing me. Though nat- 
urally averse to toil, he would cheerfully have la- 
boured for half a day to coin a sentence that would 
sting or contrive an insult that would humiliate 
me. 

At our first meeting, though I spoke a purer Eng- 
lish than his own, he hegged for an interpreter, as} 
unhappily he had not the delightful Celtic dialect at 
his command; expressed surprise that one born to^ 
the heritage of a kilt should demean his fine legs with 
trousers, and these not even made of the resplendent 
tartan; and then, with a sarcasm that was alter-] 
nately like ice and fire in the blood, he commented on 
the instructive and interesting antiquarian cut of 
breeches made in the Highlands. 

“As for your coat,” said he, “it is the finest speci- 
men of the antique I have seen, and I more than half 
suspect you of being the lucky finder of a garment 
dropped from the ark during its cruise among the 
northern peatbogs, As an antediluvian relic there 


A KINSMAN AND AN ENEMY. 


13 


would be a fortune in the thing. Why don’t you ex- 
hibit yourself?” Whereupon his satellites, laughing 
uproariously, called out that it wasn’t fair to purloin 
the clothes of Noah and say never a word about it. 

I left him with a crimson face, and my heart al- 
ready a furnace of hate. Thenceforward we were as 
powder and flame to each other ; we had but to come 
into contact to go off. Psychical experimenters hold 
that an idea is a force of which the natural tendency 
is to translate itself into action. When we were to- 
gether the tendency of our ideas was generally vio- 
lently that vsay. 

In the tongue I was no match for Peter; nor, in- 
deed, in the entire University was there his equal in 
the use of that diabolical weapon of offence. In 
three minutes he could have blackened the character 
of a saint beyond hope of recognition, and put a much 
more patient man than Job beside himself with pas- 
sion. As for me, a single sentence, sometimes a 
single sneering little laugh or curl of the lip, was 
enough to bring nr^ blood to the boiling point and 
create an itching in my fingers to close on his 
throat. One must be just even to one’s enemy. He 
took no pains to evade the natural consequences of his 
provocation. He did not once afford me the gratifi- 
cation of calling him coward, and I was pagan enough 
to love him none the better for it. 

When we laid aside our coats to settle differences I 
generally managed to pay off scores satisfactorily ; 
for, though he was my master with the tongue and 
three years my senior to boot, I, being bred a hunter 
and climber of hills, had the firmer muscle. Per- 
haps, too, I had the greater ardour in crucial mo- 
ments, and if that had its effect mine was not the 
first instance in which the spark of naphtha-fire in 
the Celtic blood told in the fight. 

But the fortunes of war are variable. It chanced 
that one day my enemy caught me with a crippled 
arm ; he railed upon me as was his wont, — I retali- 
ated ; we fought, and the victory was with him. If 


14 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


he had whipped the whole British nation, instead of 
a maimed and insignificant unit of it, he could not 
have exulted more ; nor if he had been of the race of 
rebel angels could lie have paid his debt of vengeance 
with a keener or opener malignancy of delight. 

“There, you Highland blusterer,” he cried, when 
the issue was decided, “have you enough or would 
you like more? How does it feel to get a drubbing?” 

“You ought to know, who have had it so often,” 
I retorted ; “ but as to this day’s work, we will reckon 
for it yet. To-morrow we’ll see who crows loudest.” 

“We will,” he laughed, with a more sinister ex- 
pression than I had ever seen in his face before. 
“ For once you and I agree. And when the reckon- 
ing comes there are muircocks I know whose crow 
will not be so cruse as it is to-day.” 

He came up to me with a devilish gleam in his 
eyes and snapped his fingers in my face. “ To-mor- 
row,” he hissed, “ I’ll show you what’ll be to-morrow. 
See, I’ll crush you like that!” and he stamped and 
ground his heel in the dust. “ A poor crawling thing 
like you setting yourself up before me!” Then he 
stood off a step, and broke into a laugh of derision ; 
but checking himself he bent forward again, saying 
in a tone of simulated compassion, “After all, as I’m 
a Christian I ought to pity you. There is a shilling 
for } T ou — take it. Before seven days are over I dare 
say you will find it useful.” 

Such was my amazement at this speech and the 
sudden change of his manner, that I mechanically 
held out my hand and took the shilling. But its 
touch, which was as a sting in the quick, restored 
my senses and I flung the coin back in his face. 

“You may insult but you cannot degrade me,” I 
cried, a hot, moist, prickly sensation springing to 
my eyes. “ What your meaning is I cannot tell. I 
only know that being yours it must be spiteful and 
malicious. But before the seven days of which you 
talk are over I will repay your affront with interest. 
And in the meantime I will say, in the spirit of 


A KINSMAN AND AN ENEMY. 


15 


Timon, it is a pity you are not good enough to spit 
on.” 

My outburst awed the throng that had gathered 
about us, and I strode away in the midst of a dead 
silence, the picture, as an eye-witness afterwards told 
me, of fury incarnate. It could not, however, keep 
Peter’s tongue long silent. 

“ Ha, ha !” he cried, mockingly, ere I had gone fifty 
yards, “so the beggar would ride on horseback, would 
he? Don’t forget that pride goes before a fall. The 
pauper who refuses alms to-day may to-morrow dis- 
pute with the dogs for a bone. Even a Highlander 
may find it hard to feed on his pride.” 

I turned quickly on my heel under a frantic im- 
pulse to go back and end my tormentor on the spot. 
Perhaps it was the vision of jeering faces that deterred 
me, for the crowd was chiefly made up of his friends, 
or it may have been an acute sense of my physical 
disability, but I only called out in a frenzy of pas- 
sion, “They laugh best who laugh last. I’ll silence 
your tinkler tongue yet !” — and held on my way, my 
rage so furious that passers-by stared at me, my 
brain throbbing with the fellest purposes of revenge. 

Poor fool! One brief moment’s prescience, one 
glimpse of the future and the keen-edged sword that 
Fate held imminent over my head would very speed- 
ily have checked my passion and turned my mind to 
other things than petty aims of vengeance. Yet such 
foreknowledge would not have diminished my sense 
of wrong. For my enemy’s evil influence was pre- 
dominant, and little as I guessed it, was to shape my 
whole subsequent career. 

On reaching my rooms I found a letter from home 
awaiting me. The superscription was my father’s, 
a circumstance that at another time and in a calmer 
mood would immediately have arrested my attention, 
since my mother was the invariable correspondent at 
Glenrae. But just then I had not eyes to observe. 
One thing, and one thing alone I saw and thought 
of, — the detested object of my wrath. He loomed 


16 


IN THE DAY OE BATTLE. 


upon my distracted mind like a portentous fate, shut- 
ting out all else. Instead of making haste to learn 
the news, I crushed the letter in my hand, and strode 
about the apartment, darkening it with violent lan- 
guage. 

At length I tore the envelope and read the letter. 
The effect was as if a fevered man were to plunge 
into an icy flood and have all his flaming currents 
chilled in an instant. I seemed to have passed in a 
moment from one extreme of horror to the other. I 
had leaped, in the words of our poet, from “hell-heat 
to arctic cold from the region of anger into that of 
despair; and for a while I was paralysed. 

At first I read incredulously, thinking that fury 
must have disordered my brain. Holding my head 
in my hand, I read again and yet again, hoping to 
prove the first interpretation wrong. But reperusal 
only brought out the fatal truth the more clearly. 
Then I thought that my father must have been mad 
when he wrote; but that hypothesis also had to he 
abandoned. The letter, indeed, was mercilessly sane 
and explicit. 

It was a voluminous document, covering a full half 
dozen sheets of large, closely written letter paper. 
That I might the better understand the crisis which 
had come upon us, and the course of events leading 
up to it, my father thought it incumbent upon him 
to relate the history of all the preceding generations 
of our house. My ancestors, according to the partial 
historian, were men of rare virtues and splendid ac- 
complishments, brave, generous, and well-favoured, 
aiming ever at keeping their honour bright, and their 
hall full of good cheer for their friends. Their hos- 
pitality shone conspicuous in ages more bounteous 
than ours; and, said my father, with a pride that 
had its touch of pathos, “ No man of them was ever 
known to do what did not become a Glenrae of Glen- 
rae.” But he was constrained to add, “ Though I am 
afraid they were not always as wise as Solomon.” 

The eulogy was the preface to a very bitter tale. 


A KINSMAN AND AN ENEMY. 1? 

Bog and crag and moorland but ill fit people with a 
chivalrous spirit and a lavish hand ; nor is the spell 
of prodigality to be cast off in a moment. The Glen- 
raes having spent themselves in keeping open house 
began to borrow. Then insidiously, bit by bit, the 
estate crumbled away till only a remnant remained.' 
“When I came into possession of it,” wrote my 
father, with a stroke of sardonic humour, “it was 
like succeeding to an almshouse.” The sequel was a 
moving tale of the incessant attacks of harpies — Isra- 
elitisli usurers aided by conscienceless lawyers, — and 
how these harpies were now “closing in like raven- 
ous beasts of prey howling for blood.” “ Wherefore 
it comes,” continued the letter, “ that things are press- 
ing hard on us at this present wri ting, and I and your 
mother are sore distressed.” There was, however, 
a chance of keeping the foe “beyond the gates” by 
temporizing until such time as I, the sole hope of the 
family, should be able to come to the rescue. The 
manner in which I was to bring relief was by beat- 
ing the harpies at their own game. In other words, 
I was to retrieve our fallen fortunes by turning law- 
yer forthwith. 

“After much deep deliberation,” pursued my 
father, “ the law commends itself to me as a high and 
honourable profession. A lawyer in our family 
would fairly set us on our feet again. Lawyers are 
all rogues, Angus, as I know to my cost ; but you 
might get a long enough spoon to sup with the wili- 
est of them. Once started, once rising, none knows 
where you might stop. You might be my Lord Ad- 
vocate yet, and go to court and make a great name 
and get influence, and then we could cock our bon- 
nets, and whistle with the best of them.” 

This was bad enough and hopeless enough, but the 
pinch was yet to come. That my progress might be 
facilitated, I was to begin my legal career in the 
office of Thomas Clephane, in Dundee — that is to say, 
I was to put myself completely and unconditionally 
in my enemy’s power. My father thanked Heaven 


18 IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 

that I had an opportunity of making so good a start. 
“I will write to your uncle immediately,” he said, 
“and it lies secure in my mind that he will admit 
you on favourable terms. Delay not, my son. Let 
our straits be a spur to your resolution ; we look to 
‘you to save us, and I am sure we do not look in vain. 
I have a dim memory of hearing you once say that 
your cousin, who will naturally be your uncle’s part- 
ner and successor, is your fellow-student at the Uni- 
versity. Cultivate his good will, and, by the grace 
of God, he may befriend you.” 

I read this letter a dozen times, dazed by its news, 
sickened at heart by its misplaced and tragic hope- 
fulness. Locking the door to prevent intrusion, I 
sat down and tried to think. What was this burden 
that had been laid so suddenly upon me? What was 
I asked to do? Not half an hour before, Peter had 
publicly ground his heel in the dust to signify how 
he would crush me, and I had flung defiance in his 
face. Now I was to plead for his favour, his help, 
his toleration, his good will. I was tacitl}’ to court 
his scorn, to invite him to heap insults and humilia- 
tions on my head. He might taunt me and tempt 
me, call his companions to join him in making 
sport of me, he might spit on me, treat me like a 
dog, and I could give nothing in return but the 
crouching subserviency which a dog owes to its 
master. 

I sprang to my feet quivering with anger, and be- 
gan to pace the room in a tumult of revolt. No, by 
Heaven, it should never be! Never, as long as he 
drew breath, would Peter Clephane rejoice in domi- 
neering over me. To be snubbed, contemned, jeered 
at, treated as a slave, a creature of the mire every 
time the humour seized him, was a prospect to be 
cancelled at once. He must be aware of our condi- 
tion. Already he had flung at me the gibe that I was 
a pauper, and given me a foretaste of the treatment I 
might expect at his hands. My father could have no 
knowledge of what his proposal meant. He would 


A KINSMAN AND AN ENEMY. 


10 


not willingly deliver me bound into the hands of my 
worst enemy. 

And then, with a subduing and sobering effect, it 
struck home to my heart that all this was but the re- 
bellion of a selfish pride. The individual has his 
rights, private feelings have their place and value; 
but to weigh them against the claims of a pressing 
duty is impious. Could I be guilty of such impiety? 
Could I turn a heedless ear to the call for help from 
them to whom by every law of God and Nature, 
every tie and sentiment of affection, I owed all the 
aid it was possible to me to give? No, a thousand 
times, no. Better suffer any humiliation, better sac- 
rifice freedom and liking for ever than turn traitor to 
those I loved. Help! Yes, I would help. If neces- 
sary I would go to Dundee, and be deaf and dumb 
under Peter’s persecution. He could lay on, and I 
would never so much as protest. 

The gloaming came, and my landlady brought a 
light. The cheerful glow of lamp and fire strength- 
ened my resolution. My writing materials were on 
the table, and I sat down eagerly to reply that I 
would do in all particulars according to my father’s 
wishes. As I wrote, my paltry objections grew less 
and less, till they were no more than a vague shadow 
at the back of my mind. My spirits rose: the pros- 
pect brightened. I was almost glad of the opportu- 
nity that had arisen to do something practical and 
helpful. I would throw myself into my new studies 
with all my soul, and — who knew? — I might 3 T et re- 
alise my father’s dream and be a legal luminary and 
restore the fortunes of my family. I had read of such 
romantic things; I would make my own life a ro- 
mance. 

My sheet was perhaps half full when all at once 
there arose a great shouting under my window. I 
stopped to hearken, but unable to distinguish what 
was said, I raised the sash and thrust out my head. 
The moon, which was near the full, shone in an un- 
clouded sky, so that the light was good. Below I 


20 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


saw half a dozen familiar figures, and in their midst, 
with a leer on his face, was Peter Clephane. He 
broke into a tirade of reviling and mockery as soon 
as he saw me, asked me how I liked my drubbing, 
and whether I wouldn’t come down and get more. 
I closed the window, firmly resolved to make no re- 
sponse. Words are but wind, and should not turn a 
strong man from his purpose. But the clamour wax- 
ing louder and more aggressive so that 1 could not 
write with any degree of. self -possession, I put out my 
head again to beg them to go peaceably away. I 
was received with a volley of very ill-smelling slime 
and shouts of derisive laughter. 

“ That’s a slight expression of our respect and es- 
teem for a scabby Highlandman,” cried Peter. 
“ How does it taste?” 

I shook off the filth with a dizzy head and a sharp 
-constriction of the throat that made me gasp. I did 
not speak, I could not; but there was a fascination 
that held my eyes fast on the enemy. As I did not 
withdraw I was bespattered a second time. They 
were mightily pleased with themselves, and screamed 
in their glee louder than ever, Peter’s voice being 
high over all. But the swelling tumult within was 
drowning the noise without. I did not hear what 
was said; I scarcely saw their mocking gestures. 
Lights began to leap in a fantastic maze before my 
sight, and there was a sound in my ears like the 
vicious song of a million bullets. I cleaned nwself 
again as well as possible, my assailants screeching in 
an ecstasy of joy at my plight; then turning back- 
ward, I clapped on my bonnet and descended the stairs 
for my revenge. 

My appearance outside was the signal for another 
and a fiercer storm of ridicule and revilement; but 
my passion was already running high and needed no 
fresh tempest of derision or abuse to make it surge. 
Walking straight up to Peter and looking him in the 
two eyes so that he flinched and fell back, I said, in 
a voice that was strange even to myself : “ The time 


A KINSMAN AND AN ENEMY. 


n 

has come for you and me to settle some points. Come 
this way, and bring your friends.” 

At the back of the house there was an unused plot 
of ground, covered by a soft sward . It offered a de- 
sirable seclusion, and thither I led them. They took 
the thing as a fresh jest, making boisterously merry 
over it, little aware of the maddening electricity that 
tingled along my veins, or the deadly intent that had 
brought me there. 

“Fire away, FJanagan,” .cried one hilariously. 
“ Well done, hobbledehoy,” chimed another. “Hold 
on till I get claymores,” roared a third, and they were 
all unconscious what a fire they were feeding. 

Immediately upon entering the enclosure I threw 
off my coat and waistcoat, slipped the braces from 
my shoulders to have freer play, and tightened the 
belt about my waist. Peter stood regarding me with 
a look partly of curiosity, partly of contempt. 

“ I think you had better strip,” I said, quietly; “I 
want no advantage.” There was no longer any 
thought of the crippled arm. 

“Valiant words to come from so white a face,” he 
laughed. “ I swear you look as if you had just come 
from a gathering of ghosts.” 

“Get ready,” I said, biting my lip in my impa- 
tience, so that I tasted the salt blood. 

“Well!” he cried. “I declare the farce deepens, 
though I must say it seems an odd taste to want two 
thrashings in one day.” 

“Get ready,” I repealed, “for fear I kill you before 
you have a chance of defending yourself.” 

He laughed outright at this, a jeering exasperating 
laugh. “ Who said a Highlander had no spirit?” he 
cried. “ This is worthy of the formidable knight of 
La Mancha.” He might have been less free of his 
taunts had he foreseen how speedily and effectually 
the tune was to be changed. 

He stripped leisurely, taking time to fold each ar- 
ticle daintily as he took it off, and to keep my pur- 
pose hot his tongue was busy with sarcastic compli- 


22 


IN THE DAY OE BATTLE. 


merits to my valour. At length, bowing elaborately, 
he announced himself ready to receive any attention 
I cared to bestow upon him. The words had scarcely > 
left his lips when he was reeling from the charge. ; 
For it was not a fight such as we used to have. It 
was a furious onset and a feeble defence. I can liken 
it to nothing but a cur struggling impotently in the 
claws of an infuriated tiger. He was stupefied and 
windless before the smile of disdain had time to leave 
his face. I was not conscious of his resistance. I 
did not feel his blows.' I thought we had not well 
begun when he was an inert heap on the ground and 
his friends were calling for mercy. When he was 
helpless I turned from him to them ; for my fury was 
still in raging flood. 

“Will any one of you, or all of you together, take 
his place?” I roared. 

But the challenge was not accepted, for none of 
them cared to fight a demon, and so, crying out about 
caitiffs and cowards who could jeer but had no 
heart for battle, I re-dressed and went back to my 
rooms. 

With the passage indoors there came a swift and 
miraculous change. I had not been absent ten min- 
utes, yet I returned to another world, a world of con- 
vulsion and frightful upheaval. My father’s letter 
lay on the table, and beside it the unfinished reply. 
Glancing at them, my eyes caught the words of sup- 
plication, the appeal for aid . I sank into a chair with 
a moan and buried my face in my hands. 

“ And this is how I help !” I cried, with a choking 
sob. “ This is my loyalty to them I love ! God for- 
give me !” And my anger went out in a passion of 
tears, leaving unutterable remorse and horror behind. 

Having shattered my prospects and disregarded 
my father’s advice, as far as it was possible to do 
both, I felt there was nothing to be done but to go to 
him as quickly as might be and seek his pardon. It 
was not an agreeable nor indeed a promising mission, 
for though my father was one of the most affection- 


A PERSONAGE OF VAST IMPORTANCE. 


23 


ate of men, he was hasty -tempered and, when opposed, 
narrow and arbitrary — ay, even capable of headlong, 
volcanic violence, nay of downright injustice. I was 
thwarting him in his dearest wish, and he would not 
easily forgive me ; but go to him I must, were it only 
to hear his sentence of banishment. So, with the 
heaviest heart I had ever carried, I set about packing 
at once, resolved to start by the first coach on the 
morrow. 


CHAPTER II. 

A PERSONAGE OF VAST IMPORTANCE. 

About midnight I went to bed, but my rest was 
an agonizing mockery. “Nightmares rode on my 
strangled sleep,” rode roughshod, and, as if that were 
not inhumanity enough, stayed their course to tor- 
ture and dance. The experiences were such as make 
brave men shake like cowards and strong men weep 
like children. Mountains toppled upon me, ghastly 
screeching hags tore me with venomous claws, ser- 
pents and black dogs writhed and leaped on my 
breast, shapeless monsters strained to devour me, and 
appeared likely to succeed — in a word, a multitude 
of terrors encompassed and smothered me; and 
through it all, though I struggled to escape and cry 
for mercy, I was as helpless as a paralytic and as 
tongue-tied as a choking baby. In some dread crisis, 
perhaps as I was on the point of being swallowed 
whole, or torn, or crushed to death, I would jump up 
bathed in the cold lather of panic; then lie for a while 
tossing with aching sensibilities; then doze to start 
and shudder again and creep together in the dark as 
at the touch of evil spirits. 

It was a relief when the grey dawn broke in search- 
ing chilliness, and I rose with chattering teeth to face 
a world that had strangely altered during the night. 
I was miserably sore and bewildered. My bodily in- 
juries, indeed, were naught; but my mind beat with 


24 IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 

a poignant sense of bafflement and disaster. Swept 
from its moorings and cast adrift by the first real 
breath of tempest that had ever blown upon it, it had 
lost its reckoning and was groping pathetically in the 
blank isolation of enveloping mists, seeking anchor- \ 
age and some ray of intelligence to explain the con- .3 
fusion. 

When the mists began to dissolve, turning vague 1 
apprehensions into dismaying realities, the change 
assuredly did not tend to lighten the spirits. For a 
clear perception of the situation brought back upon 
me all the horrors of remorse and despair. It would 
be difficult to say which was the harder to bear, the 
thought of impending ruin or the recollection of my 
folly and disobedience. Either would have been 
hard enough ; together they were as the torment of 
Dives. But by degrees it came to me that what is 
must be borne. As I had made my bed, so I must 
make shift to lie on it. The philosophy is hard but 
bracing. 

Happily for the unfortunate calamity has its stim- 
ulus as well as its terrors. Happily, also, man is in- 
genious in devising excuse for his faults. I began 
in the time-honoured fashion to console myself with 
the reflection that I was not entirely to blame for what 
had happened or was happening, that in the common 
phrase I was the victim of circumstances. At the 
thought the old spirit of revolt arose within me. I 
thrilled to the brazen call of necessity, and my teeth 
clenched in savage resentment of the cruelty and in- 
justice of fortune. Fortified by a desperate defiance, 
a determination deep as the wounds in my soul, I 
swore I would make my enemies suffer. There 
might be little hope of victory; but there was a 
wicked gratification in prolonging the conflict and 
rendering evil for evil, even to the bitter end. In 
the warm atmosphere of the dawn, however, my fiery 
resolution could not keep me from shivering. 

My impatience to be off brought me to the point at 
which I was to take the coach a good hour too early. 


A PERSONAGE OF VAST IMPORTANCE. 


25 


That space, for want of. better employment, I spent 
pacing to and fro on the pavement of Princes Street, 
chewing the cud of very sour reflections. About 
me stable-men shouted and swore, horses clattered 
into place, and fussy passengers made a commotion 
for no reason whatever, as fussy passengers have a 
way of doing. At another time I might have been 
amused, but just then Babel and the tongues ten 
times confounded could not have diverted my dismal 
and rankling thoughts. 

The morning broke brilliant and keen — caller, as 
they say in Scotland — with the wind coming briskly 
off the firth and the level sun striking with a daz- 
zling radiance on dewy roof and tower and spire. 
The scene was one to lift the gloomiest out of his 
gloom. Misery itself, which sees most things with 
jaundiced eyes, could not look without a thrill of ex- 
altation, a momentary self-forgetfulness, on the ro- 
mantic city flashing in liquid brightness, as if she 
had just arisen, dripping like some shining miracle 
from the sea, and glowing, nay blazing, with a thou- 
sand colours that made her pinnacles points of fire 
and turned her ramparts and buttresses to opal and 
amethyst. Every moment brought fresh enchant- 
ments, magical effects of gold and rose and gauzy sil- 
ver, — so that Edinburgh, clustering about her hills 
and precipices and broken into a rich confusion of 
iridescent peaks and fantastic pictured masses, 
seemed a poet’s dream — a city of Fairyland. Yet 
already, in obedience to the conditions of her exist- 
ence, she was bending her neck to the prosaic yoke 
of a sordid routine. Wheels were in motion that 
would grind her people as if they were sacrificial of- 
ferings, fling them aside, maimed and useless, and 
hum and roar for more, that would in due course be 
thrust among the iron teeth. I saw the beginning 
of that daily battle of life from which so many of 
the combatants are glad to escape to a quiet grave ; 
saw men and women going forth to contend for food, 
to trample, to rob, to plunder, to deceive, as if the 


26 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


decree of heaven were that mankind must live by 
force and fraud, and the hand were fallen powerless 
that feeds the sparrow and clothes the lily. It was 
a piteous fate ; yet in comparison with mine it seemed 
sunny and attractive. 

The castle alone seemed independent and unsubdu- 
able, lifted completely above the trivial and vexatious 
affairs of life. The sentinel’s steel gleamed on the 
battlements with stirring and quickening suggestions 
of its own. I thought of the glory of carrying arms, 
experiencing in imagination something of the shock 
of battle and the rapture of victoiy. Why should I 
not join the ranks of those who joyously sought re- 
nown with banners and music? What more natural 
to the hand of a Highlander than the hilt of a sword? 
But as I asked myself the question the trumpet 
blared out its summons to mount, and so, instead of 
getting into warlike accoutrements, and putting my 
fortune to the arbitrament of bloody strokes, as my 
Lord Stanley has it, I took my seat on the coach as 
meek as any Quaker. 

We rolled off with regal pomp, our flourish of 
trumpets and the ostentatious gaiety of our equipage 
collecting a group of gazers at even the early hour of 
six. But they did not long feast their eyes on our 
splendour, for our steeds being fresh and the char- 
ioteer given to display, we were soon out of the echo- 
ing streets and bowling merrily along the highway. 
The exhilaration was immediate and exquisite. 
There is something in freedom and rapid motion and 
vivid sunshine and the jovial companionship of irrev- 
erent coachmen and trumpeters, and the admiration 
of blushing rustic maidens, and mettlesome horses 
gay with polished trappings and flying ribbons, that 
even the child of misfortune cannot resist. My 
spirits, chill and leaden as they were at starting, were 
soon in a glow, which they retained more or less 
until, with a rousing blare of the bugle and a great 
bustle of welcome, we drew up at the Hound and Stag 
in Perth, where we were to pass the night. 


A PERSONAGE OF VAST IMPORTANCE. 27 

The Hound and Stag was a cosy old inn, with low 
black ceiling, yellow sanded floors, a cheerful display 
of kegs, copper kettles, crystals and other utensils of 
good cheer, and an appetizing fragrance diffused by 
savoury pans and bubbling, hissing ovens. It was 
a place which the hungry guest entered with expec- 
tations and left with regret and pleasant recollections. 
The traveller can find no such hospitable refuges 
now. We have palace hotels and great gilded din- 
ing-rooms, and formality and grandeur, and invisi- 
ble landlords and supercilious waiters who criticize 
your manners and expect exorbitant tips for 
doing it, and flunkies in livery with the petri- 
fying stare of Gorgons; but no comfort com- 
parable to that of the Hound and Stag. That 
evening the entertainment was so royal that long 
ere the supper was over half my fellow-travellers 
Avere uproariously hilarious, and the host took no 
offence. 

Being in no mood for revelry, I stole out through 
the town and down by the green soft banks of the 
Tay to have a quiet thought to myself. When I re- 
turned some of the company had prudently gone to 
bed ; others, less mindful of appearances, were snor- 
ing serenely in their chairs, in every variety of pos- 
ture possible to the human frame made limp by ar- 
dent cheer; and one or two, whom I took to be kirk 
elders, on furlough, were discussing the doctrine of 
predestination and eternal punishment in a perfectly 
amiable and fatuous manner over well-plenished 
tumblers of toddy. 

There was no apprehension of fiery torments in 
their jocund countenances, though one of them, liic- 
cuping violently, declared it was “an awfae thing, 
an awfae thing to dwall in everlasting flames and 
never be burnt oot.” 

“Ah, laddie, laddie,” he said, solemnly turning a 
watery eye upon me. “ Mind yer ways in the days 
o’ 3 r er youth ere the evil days draw nigh and the 
deil has ye in his cloots, Ance tlier, ye may sing 


28 


IN. THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


‘Fare weel to Lochaber. ’ Ah! it’s an awfae thocht, 
an awfae thocht.” 

He emptied his glass with apparent relish, and re- 
filled it. “There’s warn* things in this world than 
toddy,” he remarked at large, “aye providing it’s no 
spoiled in the making. There’s a deal o’ skill 
needed in the brewing o’ toddy, let me tell ye. I 
have said as much to oor minister mair than ance — 
the good man taks a gless himsel, ye ken, just for his 
stamach’s sake, as the Apostle says — and he agreed 
wi’ me. Ay, it’s no every coof can brew toddy.” 
He refreshed himself again, and as he was setting 
down his glass his eye fell once more on me. Instantly 
his face became grave as with a weighty sense of duty. 

“ Can ye tell me, d’ye think, what’s the sixth com- 
mandment?” he asked, leaning across the table to- 
wards me. 

I answered that I thought it forbade killing. He 
shook his head with a pained solemnity, nearly tip- 
ping over his glass with the point of an extraordi- 
narily long nose as it swung to and fro like a pendu- 
lum. “ In a Christian country it’s waefae, perfeckly 
waefae,” he observed tragically. “ What are oor 
ministers aboot that the like o’ this can happen? 
Man, it’s a peety, a great peety ! and yer no an ill- 
favoured callant ava; just igneerant, fair lost in ig- 
neerance. The seeventh commandment is, Thou — 
mark it weel for yer edification, laddie— thou shalt 
not covet thy neighbour’s wife — it’s the greatest o’ 
sins amaist — mind Daavid, laddie, mind King 
Daavid and be warned — thou shalt not covet thy 
neighbour’s wife, — get ane o’ yer ain if ye like, but 
let his a-be— the Lord be thankit, there’s wives 
enough and to spare for us a’ ; weel let anither man’s 
wife alane: what’s the sense o’ robbin’ him o’ gear 
that’s so plentifu’? — and his ass too — that’s his 
cuddy, ye ken — neither his meal-poke, nor his her- 
rin’ barrel, puir man, and least o’ a’ liis coo and his 
bit lass. What are ye waggin’ yer finger at me for, 
Tammas?” he demanded suddenly. 


A PERSONAGE OF VAST IMPORTANCE. 


29 


“ I’m thinkin’ ye’ve made a bit o’ a mistake, 
Geordie,” returned Tammas. “ Accordin’ to the law 
o’ Moses — Deuteronomy — I dinna just mind the 
verse and chapter — or may be it’s the Sang o’ 
Solomon — I’ve aye thocht it says a great deal for 
a man wi’ sae mony wives; — seeven hunder, I 
think, was the number — that he could sing ; anyway, 
it’s clearly laid down that it’s the eighth command- 
ment that forbids the covetin’ o’ other men’s wives.” 

“ Tammas,” said Geordie, with an inane leer which 
was meant to be extremely stern, “ I widnae liae be- 
lieved it. It’s doonriglit scan’lous. I’ve a good 
mind to hae ye afore the session.” 

“It’s my opinion ye baith deserve the session,” 
chuckled a third, blinking unsteadily upon them. 
“ Much good Moses and Solomon and Deuteronomy 
and the Carritch * hae done ye. Whan I was a lad- 
die, as my hurdies hae good reason to mind, it was 
the fourth commandment that forbade wanderin’ 
frae yer ain hen-roost.” 

“ Was it?” said Geordie, in a thick voice. “Man, 
I widnae hae believed ye were sae very igneerant. 
The session will hear tell o’ this. Laddie, laddie,” 
he went on, addressing me with an added lugubri- 
ousness of manner, “pray to be delivered frae idle, 
igneerant babblers. Go home and learn the ninth 
commandment aboot lettin’ what’s no yours alane. 
In fvhatna heathen land was ye brocht up any way 
that yer in sic darkness?” He looked down at the 
table. “It’s dry work convertin’ sinners,” he said, 
and with an incontinent wink he emptied his glass. 
“That’s the stuff to wet a man’s whistle,” he ob- 
served; “we’ll hae mair o’t.” Finding his own sup- 
ply exhausted, lie reached across the table for another 
decanter. “ The Lord helps them wha help them- 
selves,” he remarked. “Laddie, here’s t’ye. I like 
yer looks; but ye maun mind yer Carritch if yer 
goin’ to jouk auld Clootie. Go liame and learn the 

twelfth commandment and- ” 

* Catechism. 


30 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


“Is this a society for the propagation of blas- 
phemy?” broke in a sharp voice with the disturbing 
effect of a thunder-clap. 

Geordie paused with the uplifted glass half way to 
his lips, and the others turned abruptly to the ques- 
tioner with faces of amazement. 

“God forbid, sir,” answered the landlord, unctu- 
ously. He had just crept in softly to see that his 
guests were happy, and was scandalized at the impu- 
tation of irreverence for sacred things. 

“Blasphemy!” echoed Geordie, bringing his glass 
down with a decision that, sent it into splinters, and 
trying to sit very straight. “Blasphemy! I’d like 
to clap my een on the man wha wid talk blasphemy 
to my face.” 

“ To enjoy that privilege, then, you have only to 
look into the mirror,” said the intruder with a fierce 
scorn. 

“Anything wrang wi’ the doctrine?” demanded 
Geordie, hoarsely. 

“What doctrine?” said the other. “I have heard 
none, except it be the maundering of a licensed fool.” 

Geordie rose to his feet with contorted visage, but 
he found it hard to maintain his equilibrium, and 
charitable hands set him back gently but firmly on 
his chair. 

“What’s wrang wi’ the doctrine?” he queried 
again in truculent but husky tones. 

“He rides on the riggin’ o’ the kirk, Geordie,” 
whispered Tammas, winking violently with both 
eyes. “ He’s a son o’ self-righteousness whas por- 
tion is wi’ the Pharisees. A hot spot, my certie. 
Better for Sodom, heap better, in the day the elect — 
you and the rest o’ us, Geordie — are snug in Abra- 
ham’s bosom. Fire and brimstane.” He grinned 
like an ass eating thistles. “Foreordained, ye can 
see it, min.” He drew himself up, and faced the 
stranger with a shining countenance. " Like as not 
thae discussions are no in yer line, sir,” he observed 
affably. “Maybe ye dinna like goin’ oot o’ yer 


A PERSONAGE OP VAST IMPORTANCE. 


31 


depth, and when ye come to think of it, what are 
ministers paid for if no to save gentlemen frae 
fashin’ about their souls? It’s a kittle business, sir; 
ay, an unco kittle business.” He smiled fatuously, 
evidently expecting an answer; but all he got was a 
withering glance of the eye. Nothing abashed, he 
smiled again after a vacant interval. “ Weel, weel,” 
lie continued amiably, “let that flea stick to the wa’. 
Am sure ilka ane is free to tak a spring on his ain 
fiddle; and nae doot we’ll a’ mend as we grow better, 
and get to heaven \vi’ the lazy weaver at last. Yer 
very excellent good health, sir.” 

Geordie, however, maintained his militant mood 
unabated. “ What’s wrung wi’ the doctrine?” he 
demanded once more, with a lurid fire in his rolling 
eyes. “ I want that question answered. What’s 
wrang wi’ the doctrine?” 

“Will ye no step up by to bed, sir?” asked the 
landlord, bending double before him. 

“No,” answered Geordie, ferociously. “No sae 
much as half a fit;” and he sat on glaring at the in- 
truder, and mutte ing at intervals, “ What’s wrang 
wi’ the doctrine? that’s what I wid like to ken. 
What’s wrang wi’ the doctrine?” 

Naturally the interest gravitated to the man who 
had so unceremoniously questioned Geordie’s ortho- 
doxy and piety. That he was a person of conse- 
quence was evident, no less from his own lofty and 
imperious port than from the servile attentions of 
mine host. He was booted and spurred, as though he 
had just alighted from the saddle. A silver-mounted 
riding- whip, and a pair of riding gloves, lay beside 
him on a table, and he wore the loose brown velvet 
coat affected by the better class of horsemen. High 
about his neck was a huge stiff collar, that held his 
head defiantly in the air, and kept his ears rigorously 
at attention. An imposing bunch of seals dangled 
from his fob, and his rosy gills and portly waist pro- 
claimed that he was one of the fortunate people who 
have their bread buttered on both sides. His head 


32 


IN THE HAY OF BATTLE. 


was bald on the crown, and a ragged wart marred f 
the symmetry of his nose, which, however, was flung 
in the air with a sempiternal snort of contempt, as if 
scorning common noses and their owners. His air 
told, he was perfectly well aware, that when he 
stood, his two legs supported the very pink of crea- 
tion. 

When I turned from my examination he did me 
the honour of staring hard at me ; but almost imme- ; 
diately he brought the tips of his fingers supercili- )> 
ously together, and turned his eyes to the ceiling in ; 
a manner which said plainty he regretted demeaning 
himself with an utterly insignificant and casual 
stranger, and that he would certainly not do it 
again. As he was delivering himself silently but 
impressively of these sentiments and resolutions, the 
landlord bustled into the room with a bowl of steam- | 
ing, fragrant toddy, a glass and a ladle, all of which 
he set down with an air of ceremonious reverence on 
a small table specially placed at the right hand of the 
great man. The great man thereupon took his eyes t 
from the ceiling, and his eloquent finger-tips apart, ' 
and condescended to give a grunt of approval. Thus - 
encouraged the landlord became adventurous. 

“I have taken the liberty, sir,” he said, in his 
suavest manner, with an inclination of the body to- 
wards his patron, “ to put the heel of a lemon in it. I 
I aye think lemon adds to the flavour of the best Glen- 
livet. Let me fill your glass, sir. There, I think 
y ou'll find that worth drinking. I had Sir Thomas . 
Gordon of the Elms here the other day — something 
in India or China, I dinna weel ken which or what 
— a fine fellow if he wasna just so yellow, but that’s 
the liver, sir. My word, a bad liver’s ” 

“ An ugly companion, ” said the great man, taking 
a sip, “but, to say the truth, I’m not interested in 
Sir Thomas’s biliary organs.” 

“Faith nae mair am I, sir,” promptly responded 
the host. “ A man has troubles enough of his own 
in this world, without fasliin’ wi’ other folk’s livers, 


A PERSONAGE OF VAST IMPORTANCE. 


33 


— but, as I was saying, Sir Thomas happened to be 
in ” 

“Unspeakably gracious on his part, to be sure,” 
interrupted the great man. “Yet the fact does not 
interest me.” 

“Week weel, sir,” responded the host with a deep- 
ening of the colour in his rubicund face, “ I’m sure 
I’ll be the last to fash ye with things ye dinna want 
to hear. I only meant to say that Sir Thomas praised 
the toddy of the Hound and Stag.” 

“ An honour sufficient to shed lustre on your fam- 
ily forever,” said the great man, taking another sip; 
“ you’d better have the bellman sent out to apprise 
the town of Sir Thomas’s compliment. Meantime, 
if you come back in fifteen minutes, I’ll have a ques- 
tion to ask you.” 

“My tongue’s aye at your service, sir,” replied the 
host, unable to conceal his chagrin. “A man like 
me must wag it at the will of them that pay me.” 
And picking up his tray he marched out of the room 
with an injured look. 

The great man gazed at the retreating figure until 
the door closed upon it; then he nodded his head with 
profound significance. “ All tarred with the same 
stick,” he said to himself, “ all born bletherers;” with 
which sentiment, he crossed his legs, and lay back to 
contemplate the contents of his glass. 

Punctual to the minute, the host returned, and, 
with an extremely solemn countenance, made his 
obeisance to the great man. The great man moving 
his head slightly, so as to have a fairer view, stared 
without speaking. 

“You told me to be back in fifteen minutes,” said 
the host. 

“It was rather a suggestion than a command,” 
returned the great man. “ But since you are here, 
will you have the goodness to inform me at what 
hour the Highland coach starts in the morning?” 

“ Six o’clock sharp, sir.” 

“Six o’clock,” repeated the great man, musingly. 


34 


IN THE DAY OE BATTLE. 


“ Then intending passengers must be afoot by five. 
Call me precisely at that hour, if you please ; and it 
would be an advantage to have a pitcher of hot water 
left at my door. And, let me see, for breakfast I like 
ham^and eggs when there is a prospect of fresli air to 
digest them, and a cup of good coffee — good, you un- 
derstand! If you attempt to poison me with your 
adulterations ” 

“My adulterations!” cried the landlord, no longer 
able to control himself. “ My adulterations ! Certie, 
that’s bonnie talk to a man in his ain hoose, a hoose, 
too, that the best in the land hae praised. Let me 
tell you ” 

“ Keep your temper,” said the great man, with un- 
ruffled calmness; “possibly you may require it yet. 
What I wish to say is that, if I am poisoned with 
adulterations, it will be the worse for you. Perhaps 
you can understand that as a matter of self-interest. 
And I presume the sheets have been aired?” 

“ Aired !” repeated the landlord, in strident tones. 
“ Every bed in the hoose ’s as dry as the fogg in a 
lintie’s nest, and as sweet as new-mown hay.” 

“I trust I shall find mine so,” said the great man. 
“If I should be so unfortunate as to contract rheu- 
matism in your bed I know how to get damages.” 

“ Nae doot yer a braw hand at sic games,” retorted 
the landlord, now nettled be} 7 ond endurance. “ Maybe 
yer ane of them that ken how to get the breek off as 
Highland-man, and the skin off a flint stane.” 

“There is one thing I know,” said the great man, 
freezingly, “a civil innkeeper, when I see him.” 

Having delivered this Parthian arrow, he emptied 
his glass, caught up his whip and gloves, and strode 
out, casting never a glance at one in the room. The 
landlord, uncertain whether to follow and apologize, 
or remain behind and give vent to his feelings in 
profane language, compromised the matter by falling 
viciously on a servant who inopportunely came in his 
way. And Geordie, who still sat nursing his griev- 
ance, desired once again, in a voice inarticulately 


A PERSONAGE OF VAST IMPORTANCE. 35 

thick, to be informed what was wrang with the doc- 
trine. 

I did not see the great man at breakfast next morn- 
ing ; but no sooner had I taken my seat on the coach 
than he clambered up beside me. The day being 
chill and foggy, he was wrapped to the eyes in a 
great- coat and an enormous woollen muffler, such as 
the Scottish people like to hide their heads in when 
the air happens to be too shrewd. 

“Ugh, dear me, it’s raw,” he remarked to the 
world at large, as he settled back in the midst of a 
pile of rugs and plaids, sublimely oblivious of the 
fact that he was reclining upon me, and appropriating 
half my space. 

We were not far on our journey when the sun 
shone out warmly ; the mists which filled the valleys, 
and lay' heavily on the wooded slopes, began to rise, 
and some of the fairest scenes in all fair Scotland 
opened to the sight. The landscape smiled. But 
there was no corresponding token of geniality in the 
face of the portentous individual by my side. He so 
far responded to the benignancy of nature, indeed, 
as to unbutton his great-coat, lower his muffler, and 
lay himself out to the sun as if he were a bundle of 
mouldy hay. But even this he did out of sheer con- 
descension, and, in the process, he made me suffer. 
He dug into my ribs with his elbow, he flapped his 
coat into my T face, he stamped on my toes, he rubbed 
himself against me, finally r keeling over and lying 
on me, as if I had been a cushion specially placed to 
save his bones. His pressure nearly r pushed me over 
the side of the coach, and I made a movement to save 
myself. 

“I’ll trouble you to look after your elbows,” he 
said, acknowledging my presence for the first time. 

“Really, sir,” I retorted, not without a little heat. 
“ The request comes rather oddly seeing how you have 
been using both me and my space.” 

He turned his head quickly and his eyes were as 
live coals. Doubtless he expected me to crumple and 


36 IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 

disappear in the blaze of his anger; but as that did 
not happen, he said very deliberately and with savage 
emphasis, as if every word were a branding iron, 
“Young man, your impudence is amazing. Culti- 
vate it; it will do much for you.” 

He averted his eyes, snorting like a charging bull, 
while I, confounded by the striking example of the 
virtue with which he credited me, could only repeat 
in astonishment, “Impudence!” 

“Precisely,” he rejoined, nudging and spreading 
himself out still farther, so that he almost cracked 
my ribs against the iron rod at the side. “ Precisely. 
You have the effrontery of a brazen serpent.” 

“And you the weight of an elephant,” I answered, 
giving him a heave that sent him against the passen- 
ger on the other side. 

“ I am at a loss, sir, to make out whether you suffer 
from congenital idiocy or inborn viciousness,” he 
cried in a burst of passion. “But I warn you to 
beware. I am not a man to take offences lightly. I 
don’t like them, and what is more I won’t have them. 
Mark that for your private well-being. There is a 
law in this country, young man, and it might turn 
out to some people’s cost that I know something 
about it. A bonnie thing, indeed, that passengers 
on a public conveyance should have to submit to the 
will of one who makes himself a nuisance and a dan- 
ger.” His wrath went on increasing. “ I will not,” 
he roared, the wart on his nose glowing like a point 
of fire. “ I will not. I do not take insolence. I do 
not endure assault and battery from young cubs in 
stage coaches at their pleasure. Not by half a hun- 
dred miles. That is not my method of re-creating 
myself. Sir, there is such a thing as justice in this 
land, as you and the owner of this jolting, ramshackle 
old coach may learn to your detriment. You laugh 
at me,” for indeed I could not keep my countenance 
— “ you laugh at me, but take care, sir, take care that 
I do not make you laugh on the wrong side of your 
mouth. I am not to be mocked with impunity.” 


A PERSONAGE OF VAST IMPORTANCE. 


37 


Tlie aid of the guard was invoked, but that func- 
tionary could discover no sufficient reason for acting 
on the great man’s suggestion that I should be flung 
head foremost from the coach. The official leniency 
was fresh fuel to the great man’s ire. 

“I have only to say, then,” he cried, his face a 
fateful purple and crimson, “ that if I should have the 
misfortune to be injured by this person, you will be 
held accountable; for you have had warning of his 
violent intentions. Do you understand, sir, what it 
is to be an accessory before the fact in a criminal 
case? See that I am not forced to have you informed 
on the point.” 

Thus admonished, the guard returned to his bugle, 
blowing (as I fancied satirical^) till his cheeks nearly 
burst, while the other passengers tittered, causing the 
great man to glare on them severally and individually 
as if they deserved thumb screws and hot pincers. 
Having scowled to his satisfaction, expressed his con- 
tempt for everybody in a series of ferocious snorts, 
and again warned the guard of the fatal consequences 
which were almost certain to follow his refusal to 
have me bound hand and foot, he pulled out a fat 
note-book and began to study a page of figures, keep- 
ing, however, the corner of his eye on me. As he 
studied, a smirk of joy now and again relieved the 
blackness of his countenance. I judged the figures 
represented some profitable investment; but little 
could I have guessed what that investment was. 

At length he closed the book, returned it to his 
pocket, and, in spite of all that had taken place, once 
more reclined at his -ease on me. It was now my 
turn to appeal to authority. 

“Guard,” I called, “have the goodness to remove 
this gentleman. And make haste, please, for if I 
should be crushed to death you will be held account- 
able as an accessory before the fact. You understand 
what that means.” 

The aggressor sat bolt upright as if an arrow had 
pierced him, his face presaging a tornado. 


38 IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 

“It is intolerable!” he said, with the hissing 
menace of a hurt snake. “But mark me, it shall not 
pass. I will have justice.” 

“ It will please me greatly to have justice done be- 
tween us, sir,” I answered, stretching myself to the 
full limits of my space. 

“And you shall have it, sir! you shall have it!” he 
cried truculently. “ I pledge you my word you shall 
have it; and I hope it will prove to your taste.” 

“I trust it will prove mutually agreeable, sir,” I 
replied; whereupon the passengers tittered again, 
fanning the great man’s anger till I thought he must 
explode. But by dint of blowing so furiously through 
his nostrils that one irreverent passenger pretended 
to look for a spouting whale, and another for signs 
of a hurricane, he managed to save himself. By a 
miracle of prudence and self-control he also bridled 
his tongue, having perhaps discovered the futility of 
his threats. For the rest of the journey he punc- 
tiliously kept from touching me. Nor did we ex- 
change another word, though he occasionally cast a 
malicious sidelong look at me. We left the coach 
together at Aberfourie, and when he disappeared 
into the inn I fervently hoped I had seen the last of 
him. 

Though I made all haste after alighting from the 
coach, leaving my portmanteau in charge of the inn- 
keeper, that I might go unencumbered, and taking a 
short cut across the moors, the gloaming had fallen 
ere I caught my first sight of the turrets and chimney- 
tops of Glenrae, dim and solitary in the midst of the 
dusky heath. The mountain tops were still radiant 
with a waning golden light, but the valleys were al- 
ready awesome with the gloom which night brings 
to the haunted solitudes of the Highlands. 

I walked quickly, my heart beating tumultuously 
with a dizzying alternation of hopes and fears and 
expectations, yet as I got out among the dark ravines, 
an eerie sensation crept along the spine and among 
the roots of the hair. At one point, where the path 


A PERSONAGE OF VAST IMPORTANCE. 39 

dived into a lonely hollow, passing in its depth be- 
tween a black tarn, said to have no bottom, and a 
cairn that covered a murderer’s bones, and a moor- 
cock rose from the heather with a sudden cry of 
alarm, my breath came in a thick gasp, and my hair 
rose on my head, seeming to lift my hat with it. I 
got out of that hollow, in very truth — 

“ Like one that on a lonesome road 
Doth walk in fear and dread 
And, having once turn’d round, walks on, 

And turns no more his head ; 

Because he knows a frightful fiend 
Doth close behind him tread.” 

I set down my feet firmly, assuring myself I was 
quite composed, and resolved not to accelerate my 
pace, yet half a regiment of the Queen’s guards could 
not have made me look behind. 

I reached the top with a long-drawn breath of re- 
lief ; and then my heart bounded afresh as the lights 
of my home shone clearly before me for the first time. 
Unable to contain myself I ran, leaping over ditches 
and boulders almost without knowing it; but in spite 
of my speed, that last half-mile seemed longer than 
the entire journey from Edinburgh*. 

As I drew near, panting from excitement and want 
of breath, Bruce, biggest of Newfoundlands and best 
of watch-dogs, rushed out with a threatening growl ; 
but when I called, though I had been absent for 
months and my voice must have been strange from 
emotion, his growl instantly changed to a yelp of de- 
light, and he flew at me, nearly knocking me down 
in his joy. While he wrestled and caressed, I vainly 
endeavouring to escape and get forward, my mother 
was upon me with a warmer, tenderer embrace, and 
a joy that exceeded his. Then my father, wondering 
what all the commotion was about, laid aside his 
pipe, and hastened forth to investigate. And there 
we were, a solitary group, in the deepening gloom, 
exchanging greetings that were mostly silent, for 
somehow speech would not come. 


40 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


Ah me! that was two score and five years ago. > 
The world is all changed since then, and I am changed \ 
with it * but that home-coming is vivider in my mem- i 
ory than are the doings of yesterday. 


CHAPTER III. 

A CRISIS AND A SURPRISE. 

So much had to be talked of, so many questions 
asked and answered, that it was far past bed- time 
before any reference was made to the business which 
had brought me home. 

“We have said nothing about the subject of my 
letter, Angus,” said my father, looking at me wist- 
fully, “because you must be fatigued; but when 
breakfast is over to-morrow, we will, by the grace of 
Heaven, have the matter discussed and settled.” 

“Very well, sir,” I answered, “I shall hold myself 
ready at your convenience.” 

Both he and my mother smiled approvingly at this 
sign of filial compliance, and having seen me to my 
chamber, and assured themselves that all was com- 
fortable, they left me. 

I said I was ready ; but it was with the readiness 
of the criminal who faces the inevitable punishment, 
and desires to have the ordeal over as quickly as may 
be. Though I was weary I could not sleep. My 
brain throbbed like a furnace, and every nerve was 
aquiver. Among other scenes I might have argued 
myself into the solacing conviction that I was but an 
innocent cause of the disappointment which on the 
morrow must overwhelm my father and mother ; but 
amid the old surroundings, with their eloquent tokens 
of affection, their subduing appeals to the heart, the 
sense of folly and disobedience was maddening. At 
times I could have risen and rushed from the house, 
then a feverish wish to comply would seize me; but 
it would vanish, leaving me in the old turmoil again. 


A CRISIS AND A SURPRISE. 


41 


I felt as if I must go to my father and have the mis- 
erable business ended at once. The more I thought, 
the more terrible my guilt appeared, and the darker 
the retribution that was at hand. Fortunately, how- 
ever, even remorse has its limits, and at last I dozed. 

I awoke in the morning, with a queer idea of hav- 
ing been travelling in a foreign land, and went to 
meet my father in a haze of uncertainty. His man- 
ner had a caressing tenderness in it that was unusual 
with him — a circumstance that added to my embar- 
rassment ; a further cause of embarrassment was that 
he introduced the business of my visit as if it were 
already settled, except in details. 

“You see, Angus,” he said, “the law has many 
advantages. It is a money-making business, and 
enables a man to fight for his own hand, in a way 
that brings rogues to confusion and ruin. As I hinted 
to you in my letter, these considerations are not in- 
different to us at the present time. To speak plainly 
between ourselves, there are some despoiling us, who 
have no moral, nor, as I think you will be able to 
show, legal right to one farthing of our money. They 
harry us because we are without proper defence, be- 
cause there is none to checkmate them. But I have 
a strong notion that the tables are going to be turned, 
and that these vultures will get the right-about in a 
fashion that will astonish them.” Here my father 
rose, and paced the room, in great exultation. “ And 
eh, it would be sweeter than honey to me to see these 
ravening sharks of the seed of Jacob, and the de- 
scendants of Ananias — by which I mean the Jews 
and lawyers — well stewed in their own broth. And, 
Angus, you’re the man to do it.” 

My tongue clove to the roof of my mouth at this 
speech, and I knew not where to look for the eager, 
disconcerting eyes of both my father and mother. 

“ I am exceedingly sorry, sir, to learn of the em- 
barrassed state of our affairs,” I faltered, with my 
eyes on the ground. 

“Yes, Angus,” put in my father quickly, “we are 


42 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 




embarrassed, fearfully embarrassed, but our fortunes 
maybe restored quicker than we think.” And the 
dear soul in his confidence came forward, took my 
hand fondly in his, and looked in my face in a way 
that stabbed me to the marrow. 

“I would do all I could for the family credit,” I 
said. 

“ The right sentiment, Angus, if rather haltingly 
spoken,” said my father, with an encouraging pres- 
sure of the hand. “ Come, my boy, give your courage 
tongue. I know it is in your heart to help us, ay, 
and in your head too. You will be as cunning a 
lawyer as the best of them. You have it in you. 
This is only the blateness of a boy.” 

“ There is no sacrifice in the world that I wouldn’t 

make, sir,” I responded; “but ” And there I 

stuck with my tongue paralyzed. 

My father stared at me for a second or so, then he 
dropped my hand, and his brow contracted. The 
crisis had come, the evil I had feared was upon me. 

“That word sounds strange in my ears, Angus,” 
he said, with a strain of harshness in his voice. 
“ When I proposed the law I did not anticipate any 
talk about sacrifices.” 

“Oh, sir,” I blurted out with a frantic desire to 
precipitate matters, “ I wish I could tell you in a word 
what I have to say. I cannot do as you wish.” 

I would have gone on, but the look he gave me 
brought me to a sudden and dead halt. He stood 
regarding me for a little, with e} T es that seemed to 
question my sanity. 

“ Eh, what’s this?” he said, in a voice strange with 
amazement. Then his anger flashed out. “ You can- 
not do as I wish!” he cried. “Indeed, indeed, in- 
deed ! you cannot do as I wish? That is very pretty, 
very dutiful, very becoming from son to father; isn’t 
it, now? You cannot do as I wish?” And he kept 
on repeating the words, and giving them a false 
meaning which I was powerless to set right. 

“And since such is the case, sir,” he went on. 


A CRISIS AND A SURPRISE. 


43 


throwing himself into a chair, “ perhaps it is not too 
much to ask what your own proposal is?” 

I faltered that I hadn’t any, and held my breath 
for the effect. It was electric. With an energy I 
had never seen in him before, my father sprang to 
his feet and began to stride about the room, or rather 
to stamp, his face a thunder-cloud, his breathing a 
series of angry snorts. As I stood quaking in every 
fibre, my mother gave me a look which seemed to 
say, “ My dear, unfortunate boy, what does all this 
mean? Have you taken leave of your senses?” 

“ I can scarcely believe my ears,” cried my father, 
when he had got over the first spasm of rage, “I 
doubt my very senses. A son of mine telling me, in 
the very crisis of fortune, he will not lift a finger to 
save us. That is intelligence to make the ears tingle. 
‘I cannot do as you wish, ’ says the beardless Solomon 
to the foolish greybeard. That’s good; the world’s 
improving. There can be no doubt we are advanc- 
ing. Before long old men will be taking lessons from 
babes. Cannot do as I wish. This is what colleges 
and professors do. Go out, sir, and get me a hazel 
rung till I teach you obedience. By my faith, Wal- 
lace Glenrae will not be disobeyed in his own house.” 

“Do not agitate yourself so,” pleaded my mother. 
“Angus means no disobedience, I’m sure. You 
haven’t given him a chance to explain himself.” 

“ To be sure, to be sure,” said my father, “ we have 
not heard his explanations. I’ll warrant they’re very 
ingenious and convincing, coming direct as they do 
from that nest of Jesuits, the College of Edinburgh.” 

Then, after a turn or two more about the room, he 
threw himself again into a chair. Thinking that 
now was my chance to speak, I began very humbly — 

“ If you listen, sir, I’ll try ” 

“ Listen !” he thundered, leaping to his feet as if I 
had struck him, “listen to you. No, the listening 
shall be on the other side. And this is what I have 
to say, that you shall obey me without troubling 
about explanations, or you shall go out of this, bag 


44 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


and baggage, to reap the fruits of your independence. 
I am master here yet, and, by the Powers above, I 
will have no explanations when my authority is chal- 
lenged.” 

“ I only wanted to tell you,” I ventured again. 

“ On your peril, sir, do not attempt to argue with 
me,” he returned, with an access of wrath; “I am 
none of your patent logic-choppers. But I know my 
own mind, and it is this: that you shall do as I wish, 
or within three minutes you shall darken my door for 
the last time !” 

Ahd I verily believe he would forthwith have thrust 
me from the house had not his attention been arrested 
by a knock at the outer, or hall door, a loud imperi- 
ous knock, that seemed to announce a person of un- 
common importance. The next minute the door of 
our apartment was opened, and in walked — my bump- 
tious travelling companion of the preceding day. He 
was all smirks and smiles now, as he reared his portly 
figure in the doorway, and looked about him the very 
embodiment of good nature. My father, being taken 
aback in the midst of his passion, stared for a mo- 
ment, without a word of welcome or recognition. 
Then suddenly he cried, “ Thomas Clephane, by all 
that’s wonderful !” 

“Troth, just the same, cousin,” returned the visit- 
or, complacently taking my father’s outstretched 
hand. “And glad to see you hale and well, though, 
to say the truth, a wee thought ruffled about the 
comb, so to speak. And this is my good cousin 
Janet, no doubt,” beaming upon my mother, and ex- 
tending a puffy hand. “ I am glad to make your ac- 
quaintance, cousin, and gratified to find you well. 
Many a time have I thought of you all, many a 
time.” Then spying me — “Ah, whom have we 
here? A familiar face surely. Hod, as I’m a living 
man, my stage companion, whose pretty wit and 
lively manners I found so entertaining on the 
wretched journey hither. Well, well ! this is a pleas- 
ure, to be sure,” grasping my hand and nearly 


A CRISIS AND A SURPRISE. 


45 


wringing it from the wrist. “Who could have 
thought of this? But the unexpected’s ay happen- 
ing ; little know we what a day or an hour may bring 
forth. And to think that yesterday we dunched each 
other in our daffin, never dreaming we were the 
same blood. Your looks tell me I’m right in taking 
you for the heir of Glenrae. Home from college, 
likely. I’ve heard of ye from Peter. Faith, Peter 
says ye’re an unco scholar.” 

“ It’s a pleasure to me to welcome you to Glenrae,” 
interrupted my father. “ And it was wholly unex- 
pected.” 

“ Pleasures are aye sweetest when unexpected, cous- 
in,” returned Mr. Clephane, urbanely. “ What’s 
expected is discounted, enjoyed before its time, so to 
speak, like wind raised by post-obit. I was in the 
country-side, and could not leave without looking in 
at Glenrae. And I’m lucky in finding you all to- 
gether and doubly lucky in finding an old friend” — 
returning his radiance upon me ; “ though, to say the 
truth, what the minister called him escapes me.” 

“Angus,” said my mother. 

“To be sure,” said Mr. Clephane, laughing. “My 
memory’s no worth a preen, as Bobbie says. I 
might have remembered what Peter has so often told 
me. ‘Father,’ he has said, ‘there’s not the like of 
Angus Glenrae in our University. Mind you what 
I tell ye, he’s born to make his mark. ’ But the fact 
is that old folks are so much fashed wi’ the world, the 
flesh, and the devil, their minds get slippery and lose 
the grip o’ things. I hope the college days are not 
over, Angus. It’s an auld saying, and a true — stick 
to the school — (the schule, we said in my halflin 
days) — and the school will stick to you.” 

“It’s a curious coincidence,” said my father, when 
the voluble Mr. Clephane had been induced to take 
a seat, “that we should just have been talking about 
a profession for him.” 

“A very important matter, cousin,” responded Mr. 
Clephane, with deep gravity of tone and counte- 


46 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


nance. Then assuming his sprightliest manner, and 
looking at me, he added, “ The most important except 
getting married, aye make that exception, Angus. ■ 
Faith the lasses take the lead, will we nill we. Solo- 
mon with all his glory — I mean all his wisdom — 
couldn’t resist them, and when he failed who’s likely 
to succeed? What’s this the poet says? there’s nae 
poetry in law, cousin, and I’m clean forgetting the 
warblings of the muse, but anyway he means that in 
camp or grove love’s supreme. A man meets his 
fate when he meets his wife. Mind that, Angus. ; 
But about the profession, cousin — excuse my digres- 
sion into the realms of sentiment and romance.- 
Lawyers go there but seldom, and, truth to tell, 
dinna feel ower well at home when they do make an 
excursion. What’s to be Angus’s profession, if it’s 
a fair question?” 

“There’s a difference on the point,” answered my 
father. “ I’m for the law, partly because I remem- 
ber your own prosperity, cousin, partly because a law- 
yer might be useful in the family ; and he’s — well ! 
he’s against it.” 

“ Hm — ha, ” said Mr. Clephane, stroking a purple 
double chin. “Dear me, that’s unfortunate; and 
yet it would never do for us all to be of the same 
mind. There are many ways of making a living, 
cousin, and the laddie has his own tastes, nae doot. 
As to the law, it’s with it as with many another 
thing — those like it best who know least about it. 
At the best, it’s a slippery game, in which ten fall for 
one who keeps his feet. I have sprachled through — 
I’ll no deny it, — but wi’ the skin o’ my teeth, as the 
man of Uz says. I’m not sure I’d advise another to 
follow in my steps. Each for himself. Only don’t 
forget, Angus, what the proverb says about the wil- 
fu’ man needing to be unco wise. But dinha let me 
interfere: dinna let me come between father and 
son.” Whereupon Mr. Clephane rubbed his hands 
and smiled, thus figuratively washing them of the 
whole business; and the subject of talk was changed. 


A CRISIS AND A SURPRISE. 


47 


When Highland hospitalities had been dispensed, 
Mr. Clephane and my father went out for a walk, 
leaving me behind. I was not sorry, since their ab- 
sence gave me an opportunity of speaking with my 
mother, who, good soul, was on tenter-hooks on my 
behalf. I told her my whole story unreservedly, and 
she sympathized, as only a mother can. I also told 
her the history of my relations with Peter, which 
startled and amazed her. 

“It is a shame, Angus,” she said, with the tears 
gleaming in her dear eyes. “But Mr. Clephane 
probably knows nothing of Peter’s behaviour, and, 
at any rate, for your father’s sake, we must uphold 
the honour of Glenrae. It must not be said he came 
here, and was ill received.” 

And then, with many a caress, she told me she 
quite understood my unhappy position, and that she 
would do what she could to re-establish me in my 
father’s favour. I could see, however, that the loyal 
heart was deeply troubled. She would fain have 
seen me obey while pledging her word as a partisan. 
My blessings on her memory. 

As fate would have it, when my father and his 
visitor returned, they were accompanied by a neigh- 
bouring laird, Sir Thomas Gordon, of the Elms, of 
whom the reader has already casually heard from 
mine host of the Hound and Stag. Meeting the bar- 
onet in the course of their walk, my father, with a 
touch of the impulsive generosity, the fantastic sense 
of honour and sociality which had been the main 
cause of our trouble, insisted on taking him home for 
luncheon, regardless of domestic convenience or re- 
source. But my mother was right glad to see Sir 
Thomas, and he, in turn, was unfeignedly pleased to 
see her, declaring, in his fine old-fashioned manner, 
it did his heart good just to cross the threshold of 
Glenrae. 

Sir Thomas, my mother had told me, always gave 
her the impression that he was extremely lonely. He 
might have been happy, as the world goes. A re- 


48 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


tired Anglo-Indian official, he was wealthy, and, 
though a widower, he had the companionship of a 
devoted daughter, whose equal in beauty and good- 
ness has not breathed since Eve left Paradise. But 
these blessings were mysteriously counterbalanced. 
There was a break in his health, and one could see 
it plainly, a break in his heart, two evils for which 
money is no medicine, and which even filial devotion 
can hardly do more than alleviate. Sir Thomas had 
both seen and done a great deal in times that history 
now calls stirring. He had been a prominent actor 
in more than one memorable and exciting scene ; he 
had fought a valiant battle, and victory had crowned 
his exertions; yet he had a skeleton in the cupboard. 
He sighed often and unconsciously, and his habitual 
look was downcast. But he was not one of those who 
parade their woes. In company, he was cheerful in 
a subdued way, and always gentle and considerate. 
Much knowledge of men and their imperfections had 
not hardened him, and bitter experiences had but 
saddened, not soured his sweet spirit. Nor had 
years of authority and much honour destroyed his 
childlike simplicity. 

I hoped that luncheon would pass without refer- 
ence being made to what had brought me home ; but 
in that I was disappointed, for the matter lay too 
near my father’s heart to be kept out of his conver- 
sation. Sir Thomas was told of the plans that had 
been made for me, and how, for some unaccountable 
reason, I was bent on spoiling them. 

“We must not be angry or disappointed if youth 
does not see with the eyes of age,” said Sir Thomas, 
graciously looking at me. “Morning and evening 
have different lights. Mr. Angus has the fresh 
vision and quick intelligence of his time of life; they 
are not to be despised. At the same time, I am sure 
he will consider soberly, and not underestimate the 
importance of maturer judgment than his own in the 
decision he is called on to make. Least of all will he 
grieve, by any obstinacy, those to whom his welfare 


THE ELMS — A MOMENTOUS DECISION. 


49 


is perhaps dearer than to himself.” And then he 
added, after a pause, “ People’s thoughts run on the 
lines that are most familiar to them. India occurred 
to me. I make a mere suggestion; how would you 
like to try your fortune in India?” 

“ No better place in the world for a young man of 
ability and enterprise, ” put in Mr. Clephane, quickly. 
“ India is a land that flows with better things than 
milk and honey. It’s the place of all others for 
making a fortune pleasantly and rapidly. I think I 
see in Angus a Nabob in embryo.” 

No one took the slightest notice of him, all the at- 
tention being bent on me. I had not thought of 
India ; but the drowning man clutches at a straw ; 
and so I hastened to express a desire to go to India, 
greatly to the astonishment of my father, and the 
consternation and horror of my poor mother. 

“Do not make a hasty choice,” said Sir Thomas, 
smiling kindly upon me. “Come to the Elms to- 
morrow evening, and we will talk the matter over at 
dinner. Perhaps we may have the honour of Mr. 
and Mrs. Glenrae’s company also” — smiling upon 
them in turn ; “ and, Mr. Clephane, I shall be glad 
if you too will favour us with your company. 
Then we can all help destiny to choose a career for 
our young friend.” And so, for the present at least, 
I had found a loophole from threatening evils. 


CHAPTER IY. 

THE ELMS — A MOMENTOUS DECISION. 

Youth has an enviable knack of turning its back 
upon the troublous past so soon as a blink of hope 
shines out of the future. 

Next day I had forgotten my woes, and was as 
snugly in conceit with myself, as ardent, as full of 
preposterous schemes as if, instead of being the foot- 
ball of fortune, I had been her first favourite and 
Grand Vizier. I passed the day zealously cultivat- 


50 IN THE DAY OP BATTLE. 

in g those aerial estates which make so fine a show 
in the eye of imagination, and promise so rare a rev- 
enue, and waited with impatience for the evening. 
Yet, when the hour came, and I found myself at the 
Elms, somehow my elation forsook me, and with it 
my confidence and self-possession. The ordeal of 
the introduction to Miss Gordon put my wits utterly 
to flight, leaving me with hot gills and an uneasy 
foreboding that I was going to make a foo] of myself. 

When we sat down to dinner I was still haunted 
by this fear, and consequently very flustered. It 
would have been unspeakably grateful to me to slink 
into an obscure corner whence I could watch with- 
out attracting attention, but a perverse fate placed 
me disconcertingly close to the dazzling young hos- 
tess. It may seem an odd thing, but in the distress 
of the first fifteen minutes, had there been the choice, 
I would gladly have resigned my seat to charge upon 
a blazing park of artillery ; and I would sooner have 
fought ten men than address a voluntary remark to 
her. To find her so much as looking at me was to 
be struck with a ridiculous palsy that sent a nervous 
tremor all through me, as if there were an electric 
battery in her eyes; to be directly addressed by her, 
was total overthrow of the wits and paralysis of the 
tongue. 

That was during the first half-hour of our contact. 
By degrees, I came to feel that, notwithstanding the 
flutter of fright she caused me, it was good to be 
near her, and listen to her wondrously vivacious and 
penetrative talk, and watch the flying shadows of 
thought on her superbly moulded and expressive 
face, and the gleam of her raven hair, and the sun- 
shine that rippled in dimpled cheek and chin, and 
the sparkle of her dark eyes — eyes which were equally 
ready to laugh in joy, or melt in pity, or flash in stern 
indignation and rebuke. 

At this point the novelist would have his oppor- 
tunity ; but I am not going to attempt a description 
of my heroine’s beauty, a formal portrait being to me 


THE ELMS — A MOMENTOUS DECISION. 


51 


a thing clean out of the question. She was twenty 
and a child of the sun and the peer of any queen on 
earth, not surpassed in loveliness by her whose face 

“ launched a thousand ships 
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium.” 

There was a time when I would not only have said 
as much, but maintained it with my sword. 

Dinner had not long begun when my business was 
introduced. 

“ It is not a thing to be lightly decided upon,” said 
Sir Thomas, seriously. “You are at a time of life 
now, Mr. Angus, when every act, every decision is 
momentous; our acts and decisions, indeed, are al- 
ways momentous, but they are peculiarly and partic- 
ularly so in youth, when we give the tone and bias 
to our whole later life. A hasty or an unwise deci- 
sion in early years, too often involves a life-long re- 
gret. I hope you have well considered with your 
father and mother?” 

“As to that, Sir Thomas,” chimed in my father, 
ere I could speak a word, “ his mother and myself 
have come to no decision in the matter. To be per- 
fectly candid, we have not been consulted. But he 
is free to choose. If he thinks it will be to his ad- 
vantage to go to India, let him go to India. He will 
be the likelier to succeed if he decides for himself.” 

“My sentiments exactly,” said Mr. Clephane em- 
phatically. “ I have a son of my own, and I say, 
‘Peter, my boy, choose for yourself. We are all en- 
dowed with different tastes and different faculties. 
Therefore, choose for yourself.’ I make no doubt 
that Angus is quite competent to select a career for 
himself.” 

“Probably he is,” responded Sir Thomas, quietly; 
“yet most of us are wiser at sixty than at twenty.” 

“ And India is so dreadfully far away, Sir 
Thomas,” put in my mother, tremulously. 

“Why, as to that, cousin,” said the lawyer, with 
an unctuous smile, “ Coeluni non animum mutant , 


52 


IN THE HAY OF BATTLE. 


qui trans mare currunt , crossing the seas does not 
change a man’s nature.” 

“A great truth,” observed Sir Thomas, with just 
a touch of irony. “Yet what does not change the 
nature may be a strain on the affections. India,” 
turning to my mother, “ is far away. Many a weary 
mile lies between us and it. The fact is not to be 
forgotten; but I was once yoking myself, and went 
abroad — and — and if youth were to come back to me, 
would probably go abroad again; and when you 
come to think of it, if the young were always to take 
the counsel of the old, the world would have come to 
a stand long ago.” He said this in the kindliest 
manner, not as a reproof, but as an encouragement 
to my mother, whose dear heart was faltering at the 
prospect. 

Seeing my opportunity, I stammered what I regret 
to have to confess was hardly the truth, namely, 
that I had given the matter careful consideration, 
and was fully resolved to go to India. 

My mother said nothing ; but the dinner had little 
relish for her, and she and Isabel left the table early. 
There was silence for a little while after their with- 
drawal. 

Then Sir Thomas said, “Since you have decided 
then, Mr. Angus, if it would not be prying too much 
into private affairs, might I ask — if I am imperti- 
nent, pray tell me so — what your plans are after your 
arrival in India? I have a special reason for ask- 
ing.” 

To this I was forced to confess that I had not 
thought out my plans, that, in fact, I had no plans 
at all. 

“ Youth trusts to luck,” said the lawyer, ever ready 
to thrust his tongue in where it was not wanted. 
“ Fortune favours them who have the pluck to show 
they don’t care a rap for the jade.” 

“I trust, Glenrae,” said Sir Thomas, turning to 
my father, and ignoring the lawyer’s remark, “ that 
when you have heard my reason, you will not deem 


THE ELMS — A MOMENTOUS DECISION. 53 

me intolerably selfish. I wished to ascertain that 
Mr. Angus had fully made up his mind before in- 
truding any personal concern of my own, lest his 
generosity might lead him to neglect liis own inter- 
ests.” 

“ You are quite incapable of doing anything from 
selfish motives, Sir Thomas,” returned my father, 
quickly and cordially. “ Whatever be your reasons, 
I am ready to wager they do you honour.” 

“You are extremely good to express such senti- 
ments,” said Sir Thomas; “but I am afraid my mo- 
tives in this instance are selfish.” 

“Then, Sir Thomas, I shall be very much sur- 
prised indeed,” responded my father, promptly. 

“You are too generous, Glenrae,” said Sir 
Thomas, “ but you will be better able to judge when 
I have explained my reasons for being inquisitive. 
The fact is, I am anxious to find some trustworthy 
friend going to India who would — well — who would 
undertake a delicate family mission for me.” 

My heart jumped at this. What could the family 
mission be? And would Isabel be interested in it? 

“ There are those in India,” continued Sir Thomas, 
after a short pause, “ of whom I should very much 
like to have intelligence.” He stopped a moment in 
evident embarrassment; then he went on, while we 
all listened intently, “I think it is generally sup- 
posed by my friend and neighbours that Isabel is my 
only child, but that — I speak in confidence, gentle- 
men — is a mistake. She has a brother Donald — 
Donald Gordon — and it is of him I would fain have 
news. The young man himself is not addicted to 
letter- writing, and my correspondents in the East 
seem somehow or other to have lost sight of him. 
It may be that he is dead,” and there was a quiver 
in his voice. “ If so, it would be some satisfaction 
to know it. And to be brief, I thought that if Mr. 
Angus were going to India, he might possibly be 
able to look Donald up.” 

“ Gad, Sir Thomas, Angus is just the very man to 


54 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


do that,” put in Mr. Clephane. “I’ll warrant he’ll 
find your son. It is a mission to suit one of Angus’s 
adventurous spirit. I only wish I could substitute 
my own son. But Angus is not to be superseded. 
I envy him his opportunity.” 

“We all envy the opportunities of youth,” said Sir 
Thomas. Then turning to my father with a smile, 
“You see, Glenrae, my motives are selfish after all!” 

“ As I was ready to wager, your motives do you 
honour, Sir Thomas,” answered my father, stoutly; 
“ and he were no son of mine who, going to India, 
would not exert himself to do what you wish.” 

With that my father looked at me as if to say, 
“ There now, speak up. There’s something to your 
taste perhaps.” 

“I need hardly assure you, Sir Thomas,” I said, 
clearing my throat, for my excitement was great — 
“ I need hardly assure you, that if ever I set foot in 
India, my first business will be to find Donald.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Angus, thank you,” responded 
Sir Thomas, while his voice shook and his eyes glis- 
tened. “Thank you. Only pray remember that 
should you change your mind you will not let this 
generous promise to me in any way interfere with 
your own projects. I will not accept your service 
on any other condition.” 

“Never fear, Sir Thomas, never fear,” answered 
my father for me. “ Make yourself quite at ease on 
that score. If he changes his mind he will tell you 
so frankly.” 

“My heart’s thanks to you, Glenrae,” murmured 
Sir Thomas. “You have made me fifty years 
younger. My spirit — ah me ! but there — there. 
Shall we join the ladies? I dare say they are feeling 
rather lonely.” And we rose and left the room. 

“My dear Isabel,” cried Sir Thomas, with the glee 
of a boy as we entered the drawing-room, “ come here, 
child, I have news for you.” She rose instantly and 
met him with a pretty look of expectation on her 
face. 


THE ELMS — A MOMENTOUS DECISION. 


55 


k< Mr. Angus is going to India, and will search out 
Donald,” continued Sir Thomas. “There’s news to 
gladden your heart, my child !” 

Isabel turned towards me, her eyes gleaming with 
a dewy, wistful brightness, and her hands shaking 
with a sudden tremor, so that I would fain have 
taken hold of them to comfort her. 

“Oh,” she said, advancing a step nearer me and 
speaking in a low voice, which I fancied was meant 
for my ear alone, “ if you could only get tidings of 
my brother, I cannot tell how grateful I should be. 
But the news that you are even to try seems too good 
to be true. How can we ever thank you — what can 
we ever do to repay you?” 

And I, with my hot face and leaping heart, cer- 
tainly could not tell her. 

The joy that gave Sir Thomas and Isabel new life, 
lifted me also to an exquisite pitch of buoyancy, but 
when they were radiant with hope and happy by an- 
ticipation of family reunions, my dear mother’s face 
blanched, so that my gladness was checked by the 
duty of comforting her. In this office Isabel came 
to my help with the sweet words and winning ways 
that were all her own ; and by dint of our unceasing 
perseverance in looking at the sunny side of things 
and keeping the dark out of view, by our dwelling 
on the chances of a young man who was not afraid to 
face the world, and had health, friends, and a modi- 
cum of brains to back him, in a little while my 
mother smiled through her tears, owning (with a 
fervent embrace) that it was good for young men to 
go out among their fellows and try hazards with 
fortune. “Few have such friends, Angus,” she said, 
looking towards Isabel, while clinging to me ; “ and 
I would not stand between you and distinction ; far 
less would I hinder you from doing a worthy action.” 
And then she and Isabel laughed and cried together, 
while I chewed my thumb in a corner, and there was 
an end of objections. 

It must be understood that I was not to go solely 


56 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


as Sir Thomas’s emissary to seek out Donald. Pre- 
cisely the reverse was the case. Primarily I was 
going on my own account, to push my own fortune ; 
and Sir Thomas’s mission was, as he was pleased to 
put it, “ a mere act of charity done to a stranger out 
of the goodness of my heart.” Yet in truth the 
charity and goodness were all on the other side. 
But for Sir Thomas’s potent and timely aid I should 
have gone away in disgrace, empty-handed, and 
without hope. As it was, my benefactor — for such 
I may well call him — not only furnished me with 
letters of introduction to the best known and most 
influential men in Bombay, but wrote batches of pri- 
vate and special letters in my behalf which I did not 
see. My career was to be a mercantile one, that, on 
mature consideration, being thought to afford the 
easiest and speediest way to affluence for one of my 
talents. 

“ The richest Europeans in India are merchants 
and bankers,” said Sir Thomas, “and they are all, 
as the saying is, self-made men. The days of the 
East India Company are over. There are no for- 
tunes being made in that service now, though” — in 
a significant voice — “it was not always so. But 
India is a wide field, and these letters, Mr. Angus, 
will, I think, put you in a position to choose accord- 
ing to your tastes. I have no advice to offer except 
not to be in too much haste to decide.” 

For what Sir Thomas had specially at heart all 
provision was made both in letters and in money. 
Of the last there was to be absolutely no stint. I was 
to spend as much and as long as I should think proper, 
or, in other words, as long as there should be the 
faintest hope of tracking Donald. 

“My bankers shall have full instructions in the 
matter,” said Sir Thomas, “and in the mean time 
we must not forget preliminary expenses.” Where- 
upon he insisted on my taking in ready money and 
bankers’ drafts, a sum that seemed to me a fortune. 
Finally, as I was in great glee with my prospects, 


THE ELMS — A MOMENTOUS DECISION. 57 

and protested against delay, it was arranged that in 
exactly three weeks from the date of my home-com- 
ing, I was to sail from London in the steamship The 
Pearl of the Orient , commanded by Captain Rog- 
ers, who, being a friend of Sir Thomas, was charged 
to provide for my comfort on shipboard. 

And so the ultimate decision was made. I was to 
lift anchor and set sail for the unknown, as so many 
did before and so many will do after me. How I 
fared there, how the reality belied all dreams and an- 
ticipations, how fate mocked at wisdom, made 
naught of forethought and a plaything of me, it will 
be the business of succeeding pages to relate. None 
of us could have imagined what was ahead of me ; 
and it was well we could not. Coming events cast 
no shadow before, and in the mean time I was eager 
and happy. 

How the three weeks passed it would he hard to 
tell. Living insubstantially on air, sedulously dream- 
ing dreams and seeing many visions, I seemed to 
have no part or lot in the prosaic life of the world 
about me. The world about me knew nothing of the 
poetic and romantic raptures that swelled my breast 
and gave a bounding elasticity to my step. I led an 
existence of my own, impalpable, ethereal, and rosy 
as the dawn when the sun comes without mist on a 
summer morning. Were not all the glories of con- 
quest before me? and, more entrancing still, was 
there not the wild possibility that one whose name I 
scarcely dared to breathe, even to myself, might help 
me to bear the weight of that crown of victory that 
shone afar off on the steep heights which I was to 
climb? That was really the thought that gave zest 
to all my enterprises. I saw my name blazoning in 
the public prints; I saw men, women, and children 
looking up to me with wonder and admiration ; I saw 
flags flying; heard crowds huzzaing in my honour, 
and the glorification was very sweet ; but it was as 
nothing to the vision of the radiant being who took 
her place beside me to share the homage of mankind. 


58 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


I am not certain whether she had come down from 
heaven expressly for my sake, or by the special 
favour of Providence I had been exalted for hers. 
That is a detail of no consequence. The chief thing 
was that we stood together on the shining eminence 
and that her beauty was worshipped and my merits 
extolled in the same breath. 

“ Sentimental bosh !*’ exclaims the practical reader. 
So he it, my friend ; we are not going to quarrel over 
words, but pray tell me, whose was the delicious ex- 
perience, yours or mine? 

I was a frequent guest at the Elms and saw a good 
deal of Isabel, whose presence I learned to bear without 
shrinking or shaking. She talked to me of her life 
in India, but most of her brother, for whom she had 
an affection amounting almost to idolatry. There 
were times when I wished she could spare a trifle for 
somebody else. But that was a wish I had to keep to 
myself. It evidently did not occur to her that there 
was any one outside of her father and brother of 
whom she might appropriately think with a little 
tenderness. I could not help considering it an ex- 
traordinary oversight on her part; but the matter 
was delicate, and no suggestion as to the bestowal of 
any fraction of her regard passed my lips. Nor is it 
likely my counsel would have availed, even had I 
ventured to offer it. Women and princes, I have 
noticed, like to have their own way. But this is be- 
tween ourselves. 

“They may tell you stories about Donald,” she 
once said. “They may say he was a scamp, and 
all that, for it is easy talking. But don’t believe 
them. He was high-spirited; that was his fault, 
and my father crossed him. His worst sin was to 
become a soldier when his friends wanted him to be 
something else, and the records of the War Office 
show he was no coward. He saved the British col- 
ours when the enemy broke a British square, and 
has more than once been mentioned in despatches for 
valour in the field. If he had remained in the army 


THE ELMS — A MOMENTOUS DECISION. 


59 


he’d have got almost any rank; but he hadn’t peace 
to do that, and it’s since he left it we have lost trace 
of him.” 

She never missed a chance of speaking about him. 
He seemed to fill her whole soul, to be her only 
thought, a circumstance that, as I have hinted, se- 
cretly piqued me not a little. 

“Oh,” she would often break out in the most ir- 
relevant way, “ if you could only find my brother, if 
you could only find Donald, I should be so grateful 
to you. But indeed, indeed,” — and here she would 
look in my face till I thought I saw visions of 
heaven — “ I will be just as grateful to you if you 
never find him. Words cannot express your good- 
ness in trying.” 

Then I would reply that if Donald were in India 
I would find him, a speech which always brought 
me a rapturous smile of thanks and further visions 
of Paradise. 

I will pass swiftly over the preparations made at 
Glenrae for my departure. My dear mother took 
care that my outfit lacked nothing it was possible for 
her to procure, and even my father softened towards 
me, busying himself with my affairs and seeming 
conscience-stricken for having been so stern with 
me. 

“You do well, Angus,” he said one evening when 
we chanced to be by ourselves, and his voice was 
husky — “you do well, Angus, I have no doubt, in fol- 
lowing your own instincts. When you go so far 
away — for to a home-keeping man like me it is so far 
away though it is still in God’s universe — when you 
go away, do not forget that we are left behind, and 
you’ll let us hear from you. And as to the other 
thing, we may find a way out of our troubles. God 
bless you, my boy. We are all in His hands.” 
And he could say no more. 

At dinner on the last evening, Duncan, the coach- 
man, who was also gamekeeper, factor, forester, and 
general factotum, and had served the Glenraes man 


60 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


and boy for fifty years, got out his pipes and sere- 
naded us in his most stirring manner. 

“ It is for Mr. Angus,” he explained. . “ He will be 
going away, God bless him, and be a big man with 
black servants, and maybe Duncan will never set 
eyes on him again. And, God bless him, he will 
have the pipes to his denner whatever, just as 
loud as auld Duncan’s lungs can blaw. Ay, will 
he too.” And so lustily did Duncan blaw, that 
not a word of conversation could we have dur- 
ing the whole meal. When his pipes were silent, 
however, and the dusk had fallen, and we three — my 
father, my mother, and myself — sat together, there 
was earnest and affecting talk; but no syllable of it 
will be set down here, for it was for ourselves alone. 

Next morning Duncan drove us to meet the stage 
in the ancient family chariot, which threatened to 
keep me at home by breaking all my bones and dis- 
locating all my joints. This antique vehicle — a sort 
of Noah’s ark, furnished with springs that would 
not yield under the roughest bumping, and set on 
wheels as stout as those of a gun-carriage — had 
served the Glenraes longer than the memory of living 
man extended, and was the pride of Duncan, notwith- 
standing the rude shakings it gave him every time 
he mounted its box. 

“ Your new-fangled kerridges will be bonnie things 
for play,” he would say, sententiously, “but they 
will be going to splinters in a week. I think this 
will be going to last for ever. They will not be able 
to make the like of it nowadays.” 

It was drawn by a team almost as venerable as it- 
self, and certainly as lean as Rosinante — a team, too, 
most decorously indifferent to any idle manipulations 
of whip or rein in which a frivolous driver might 
indulge. It did not, however, take us more than 
twice as long to drive to Aberfourie as it would have 
taken me to walk, a fact on which Duncan did not 
fail to congratulate both himself and his horses. 

Early as was the hour, Sir Thomas and Isabel werQ 


THE ELMS— A MOMENTOUS DECISION. G1 

waiting, and greeted us with a fervour that was al- 
most silent. Isabel held in her hand a tiny parcel 
and two little bunches of white heather, on which 
she looked down from time to time, as I fancied, 
with some embarrassment. At last she came close 
to me, and with a soft emotion suffusing her cheek 
and shining in her eyes, she said— 

“ This is a miniature of Donald, which may help 
you to identify him. It is in the uniform of a sol- 
dier. And this,” handing me the bunches of white 
heather, “is for luck. One is for Donald — you see I 
expect you to find him. The other,” and her voice 
fell to a mere whisper, “ is for yourself. It will keep 
you in mind of the old home, and perhaps I may see 
them both again.” 

There was no time to reply, for almost before she 
ceased speaking the shrill notes of a bugle broke 
upon the morning stillness, and a minute later the 
stage coach came up at a handsome pace, the horses 
fresh and mettlesome, and shaking their heads as if 
eager for the road. All at once half a dozen people 
pounced upon me as if intent on squeezing the breath 
out of me. My dear mother clung to me longest and 
closest, and indeed flatly declined to let me go until 
the guard had warned her twice. She released me 
with a passionate kiss, then stood motionless and 
speechless, gazing at me and weeping silently, as a 
woman will when she feels the cables of her love 
slipping. My baggage was already up, farewells 
were hastily taken, and I mounted to my place, feel- 
ing as if I were in an unfamiliar region of mists. 
Suddenly old Duncan scrambled up beside me, hold- 
ing a green bag in his hand. 

“Take it,” he said huskily, pushing it into my 
arms. “ God bless ye, take it. It will be the siller 
pipes I learned ye to blaw on. Ayont the seas ye’ll 
can gie a skirl at times to mind ye of old friends, 
and when ye come back ye’ll can inarch to your own 
quick-step, and maybe Donald will be there to fling 
his bonnet in the air. Hooch aye ! God bless ye — 


62 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


God bless ye !” and a tremulous hand patted me on 
the back as if I were a baby. 

Then Duncan leaped down and stalked back to his 
horses, daring any one to say he was not perfectly 
calm and self-possessed. He turned once, waving 
his Glengarry, then climbed on the box and sat as 
stiff and grim as a bronze image ; but I knew that 
the furrows in his cheeks were streaming. 

In another minute the driver of the stage had 
gathered up the reins, flicked the prancing leaders 
with his long whip, and we were off. I gazed back, 
waving my hand to the little group by the inn door 
till we rounded a bend in the road. Then, seeing 
none too well, I turned, setting my face resolutely 
forward. 


CHAPTER Y. 

THE SEARCH FOR DONALD GORDON. 

On the journey south, my spirits being now mount- 
ing like mercury in the sun, I could not resist the 
temptation to spend an hour or two in Edinburgh in 
the delectable diversion of making my old comrades 
envious. The achievement was not difficult. A 
few significant hints and the sight of my letters and 
drafts brought every man of them as near to bursting 
as the frog in the fable. Some envied me the money, 
some the adventures, others said it was the beautiful 
combination of both that took their fancy, and all 
agreed I had certainly been born with the coveted 
silver spoon in my mouth. 

“ It’s one of the shameless tricks of Madam For- 
tune,” said an embryonic divine, slapping me on 
the shoulder. “ Here you go out there to ride ele- 
phants and shoot tigers and order bronze-faced lackeys 
and enrich yourself from inexhaustible treasures of 
gold and gems, while I am left to wrestle with har- 
rowing problems in theology. It’s enough to make 
one forswear divinity.” 


THE SEARCH FOR DONALD GORDON. 


63 


I was to write them volumes about the wonders of 
the Indies, and was to give particular information 
on these two points, namely, the feeling inspired by 
a wounded tiger charging full upon you when your 
gun is empty, and what I thought of the heathen 
gods — from a financial point of view. 

“ I believe,” remarked one with a taste for finance, 
“ those unconscionable pagans make themselves 
deities of the finest ore set with precious stones, 
while we haven’t cash enough for an afternoon’s 
outing. Just send us a god, Glenrae, till we see how 
the heathen abomination would melt in the crucible 
of a Christian goldsmith.” 

They escorted me in a body to my coach. For be- 
ing prosperous now acquaintances became friends. 
At parting I received a unanimous injunction to 
mind my liver and be on my guard against the en- 
croachments of pride, when, as a nabob with a ret- 
inue of slaves, I hobnobbed with the dusky and lux- 
urious potentates of the East, and the start was made 
in the midst of a riotous burst of cheering. 

Only one thing marred my enjoyment. I had it 
set in my mind to give Peter Clephane the soundest 
drubbing he had ever had in his life by way of re- 
membrance ; but as he happened to be absent in Dun- 
dee, my virtuous intent did not blossom into action. 

Arrived in London, my first business was to find 
Captain Rogers. He had heard from Sir Thomas, 
and received me with great affability and considera- 
tion, undertaking to have me bestowed in the best 
part of the ship, and to let me see something of the 
town before we started. In me, as I distinctly re- 
membered, our sight-seeing expeditions produced 
perhaps as much bewilderment as pleasure. I wan- 
dered through the seething, roaring desert of the il- 
limitable Babel, eager to learn and admire, yet feel- 
ing so utterly out of my element, so much confounded 
by the din and smoke and rush, by the ruthless self- 
assertiveness and indifference that seemed to charac- 
terize men and things alike, by the squalor and splen- 


64 


IN THE HAY OF BATTLE. 


dour — so grotesquely blended and tragically con- 
trasted— in a word, so dazed by the distracting throb 
and tumult of a nation’s mighty heart, that I had 
neither wit to observe properly nor power to enjoy. 

Yet there were times when the mystic charm of 
wandering among storied and historic scenes, and 
treading, as it were, in the very footsteps of heroes 
with whose fame the world had rung bore in upon 
me through the confusion. Beyond all question I 
was in a realm of romance — a realm full of aston- 
ishing things, some to be contemplated with wonder, 
some with amusement, and not a few with awe and 
reverence. 

I stood on the grave of genius in Westminster 
Abbey, meditated among the sepulchres of kings, 
loitered in dim cloisters suggestive of a departed 
world, and read the essence of England’s history on 
mural tablet and time- eaten monument. It was 
affectingly solemn and still in that community of the 
dead, so solemn and so still one could hardly believe 
that but a few yards off was the confounding din of 
the restless city. 

I looked dizzily up at big St. Paul’s, with its swell- 
ing dome and glittering cross crowning the height 
of Ludgate Hill, and thought of the time when the 
Roman eagles flew there and strange gods were 
worshipped where stands the Christian sanctuary. 
Rounding St. Paul’s Churchyard I thought, too, of 
the time when a peaceful “river flowed down the 
vale of Cheapside,” where now are adamantine pave- 
ments and the throng and roar of multitudinous 
traffic. I visited the Tower, not without a little 
chill of horror at its grimness and grisly associations. 
I looked down from London Bridge on the black 
swirling waters of the mighty river, in whose sullen 
bosom .disappointment and disgrace have so often 
sought and found oblivion. I watched the coming 
and going of the rich City merchants wdiose argosies 
are on every sea, whose operations rule the marts of 
the world; the streams of vehicles, the thronging 


THE SEARCH FOR RONALD GOkDON. 


6o 


processions of men, women, and children, wondering 
much whither they were all bound and what they 
could all be about. Turn where I might there were 
immensity and uproar, the clatter of hoofs, the 
grinding of wheels, the confused blending of cries 
delivered in a thousand varying voices, from the 
piercing treble of the huckster calling his petty wares 
to the savage deep-chested growl and snarl of the 
quarrelling omnibus driver or carman, — a chaos of 
noise that (I was told) ceased not day or night. 

Some famous men I saw also, and of one in par- 
ticular I must tell. Captain Rogers had taken me to 
Hyde Park to feast my eyes on the greatness and 
fashion of the metropolis. As we went along mark- 
ing this and that notability, and making our own 
comments, suddenly the captain caught my arm. 
“Look, look,” he cried, pointing with his finger; 
“ there’s the greatest man in England, ay, sir, or in 
Europe.” 

I looked and saw sitting upright in a modest 
brougham a very*old lean man of gentle aspect, with 
straggling white hair, a colourless face, and a hooked 
nose. 

“That’s the man who trounced Buonaparte, sir. 
That’s Wellington,” added my guide eagerly. 

I needed no more ; my blood was on fire at once, 
and, dragging Captain Rogers with me I ran after 
the idol of my boyhood. Fortunately he proceeded 
very slowly, being impeded by the press of admiring 
people and the dut}^ of acknowledging their courtesies. 

“Don’t be up to any nonsense now,” whispered 
Captain Rogers, gripping my arm. “Remember 
where you are.” 

“Have no fear,” I answered excitedly, “have no 
fear.” But from the manner in which he held me it 
was plain he had much fear. 

We passed the Iron Duke, turned and met him; 
then getting as close to him as was possible, I doffed 
my hat and bowed. Turning half round he smiled 
upon me with a little nod. In another minute he 


66 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


was lost among the crowd, and I saw him no more; 
but among my memorable bits of memories remains 
that passing glimpse of the Victor of Waterloo. 

When the time came to sail, the river sides were 
thronged with people to witness the spectacle of our 
departure; for that being near the beginning of the 
era of steam, our start was a matter of public inter- 
est. It was still thought a miraculous thing to see a 
huge three-decker sailing off with never a stitch of 
canvas set, nor any visible means of getting forward 
save by a wheel that frantically churned the water 
into foam ; and if it was strange to the spectators on 
shore to see a big ship going bravely on indepen- 
dently of wind and tide, I must own it was rather 
disquieting to one at least of those on board to be 
caged up on the waters with a belching, pounding, 
wheezing, screeching, fire-demon, that seemed to be 
crying out in eternal agony and struggling with all 
its frenzied might to burst its bonds and wreak de- 
struction on all about it. Often in the night have I 
lain listening to it in its miniature pandemonium, 
never silent, never slumbering, never for one brief 
moment at peace, but for ever wrenching and writh- 
ing, for ever setting up the same inappeasable cry of 
labouring pain and the same terrible threat of ven- 
geance. Nowadays we have grown so familiar with 
the fire-fiend that, as it were, we stroke him com- 
placently on the back; but I never come near him in 
steamer or hissing locomotive without a shudder at 
the thought of the vengeance he may one day wreak 
on the world. 

But in that fresh experience, curiosity and interest 
soon mastered fear. There was gladness in the ease 
and speed with which our flame-fed slave carried us 
down the river and ^long the coast of Kent, and past 
“the tall white cliffs of Dover,” the last prominent 
spot on which the exile’s straining eye rests when he 
is leaving England for the East, and the first on 
which it wistfully falls when happily he returns. 
The sun was going down in a soft suffusion of colour 


THE SEARCH FOR DONALD GORDON. 67 

as we entered the strait, casting a glamorous iri- 
descent light on the receding land and the sails of 
the many stately ships that were bearing gallantly 
up and down, some like ourselves outward bound, 
others, their wanderings for the present over, bound 
for the home we had left. I stood on the deck gaz- 
ing backward till the land melted into darkness; 
then Captain Rogers quietly slipped his arm in mine 
and we went below to supper. 

The Pearl of the Orient made a quick and pros- 
perous passage, landing us in Bombay in a day less 
than the time reckoned for the voyage before start- 
ing. You may be sure I did not allow Sir Thomas’s 
business to lag. 

Having presented my letters of introduction and 
undergone a brief but fiery course of hospitality, I set 
vigorously to the work before me, assisted by the 
numerous friends of my patron. I had no difficulty 
in discovering that Donald Gordon had been in 
Bombay some eighteen months before, and had sud- 
denly disappeared. But whither he had gone, 
whether he had departed by land or by sea, or been 
despatched by the hand of the assassin, no one had 
the least idea. There were of course conjectures in 
plenty. He might be hunting in the jungle, or tak- 
ing the cool air among the hills, or trafficking with 
oily natives in another town ; he might be in China, 
or Japan, or Australia, or the South Sea Islands, or 
Peru, or in the interior of some enterprising shark; 
the possibilities were endless — but there was only 
one certainty, that he had completely slipped all his 
friends in Bombay. 

In endeavoring to trace him I did all that a man 
might do for his best friend. At the peril of my life 
and against urgent and earnest advice, I explored 
the plague-spots of the native city — spots which dis- 
seminated all manner of foul and festering disease — 
salaaming and embracing and swearing brotherhood 
with loathsome and astonished Hindoos and Parsees, 
and assuring hawk-eyed hostile Moslems (whose full- 


68 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 




er acquaintance I was to make by-and-by) that be- 
yond doubt there was but one Prophet and Moham- 
med was his name. I roused suspicions concerning 
both my sanity and my honesty by the way in which 
I interrogated wealth and lay in wait on Malabar 
Hill. I haunted temples, dodging imprudently 
among idols till I incurred the wrath of the blood- 
thirsty Siva,* whose apostles followed me with mur- 
derous knives concealed in their garments to exact 
atonement for my sacrilege. I consorted with riot- 
ous sailors of all climes and many profane tongues, 
till zealous missionaries shook their heads and spoke 
gravely of contamination. I frequented bazaars, 
public gatherings, and questionable places of recrea- 
tion, and did many other things which respectable 
people, under ordinary conditions, would have studi- 
ously refrained from doing. 

But of none of these things did I tell my corre- 
spondents at the Elms or Glenrae. Nor were they 
informed that I had invoked the aid of the police 
and of every detective, public and private, in the 
city, and that we had all failed to find so much as a 
single clue. 

In my first report, then, I had nothing better to 
send than hope, of which I was no niggard. I 
stated, truthfully enough I trust, that I had already 
learned something about Donald; also, I fear not 
quite so truthfully, that I was not without reasona- 
ble ground for thinking that he and I should shortly 
have a dish of curry together. 

Had I written what was in my mind, I should 
have said frankly, that so far as could then be seen, 
there was not the remotest chance of being able to 
trace him. Perhaps the better course would have 
been to say that. I saw this more clearly when the 
letter was gone, and I had stronger reason to con- 
clude he must be really dead. 

I argued in this way : Donald Gordon has a multi- 
tude of friends in Bombay, and if he wished to leave 
* The Hindoo god of destruction. 


THE SEARCH FOR DONALD GORDON. 


60 


he would certainly have told them of his intention, 
and the direction he purposed to take, and what he 
intended to do. There is ample evidence that he 
never breathed a syllable to one of them of any plan 
for the future. Moreover, there is a considerable 
sum of money standing to his credit with his father’s 
bankers ; he knew it had been lodged there for his 
use, and considering his extremely precarious and 
slender means of living, and the almost absolute ne- 
cessity of money to a European in the East, is it 
probable that he would decline to take advantage of 
this provision which had been made for him? Then 
there is the curious circumstance that he was last 
seen a few hours after he must have received the 
banker’s letter apprising him of the deposit which 
had been made to his credit. Supposing this letter 
was seen by others, would not the money be a great 
temptation to a needy villain, who might take the 
risk of attempting to secure it by getting rid of Don- 
ald, but finding the thing impossible as he proceeded 
abandoned the project ere any one became aware of 
its existence? 

All this I reasoned with myself over and over again, 
and the more I reasoned the firmer became my con- 
viction that Donald Gordon must be dead. He did 
not die in the orthodox fashion, else there would be a 
record of his death, but there was no evidence that 
he ever left the city ; and he was not it in now. 

I laid my conclusion before the bankers and some 
others; they all said it was plausible — “only, ’’said 
one, “ you forget Donald’s pride. He was the proud- 
est man I ever knew in my life ; indeed he was silly 
in that way.” And to be sure there was Donald’s 
pride to be taken into account. But it did not aid 
us. At the end of two months I had exhausted my 
own ingenuity, and that of all my friends and assist- 
ants, without coming on a single trace of Donald. 
If he were dead, he was buried beyond hope of dis- 
covery ; if he had gone away, he had most effectually 
covered up his steps, had indeed left as little track as 


70 


IN THE HAY OF BATTLE. 


a shadow leaves. There seemed to be nothing for it 
but to abandon the search, write my dismal report, 
remit Sir Thomas his money, and turn to my own 
concerns. My friends admitted it really was the 
only thing to be done. 

“Indeed, Mr. Glenrae,” said Mr. Macdonald, a 
hanker at whose dinner-table the matter was dis- 
cussed, “if it were a financial speculation, depending 
for return of profit on the finding of the volatile Don- 
ald Gordon — who, for aught I know, has the power 
of making himself invisible — I am bound to confess 
I would have nothing to do with it. It seems un- 
questionable that Mr. Donald has gone, desiring no 
further news of his friends; and I think you are 
right in giving up the chase. And now that you 
have disposed of Sir Thomas Gordon’s business, 
might I ask what your plans are for yourself?” 

I was obliged to answer that I had no definite 
plans as yet, having been so absorbed in the hunt for 
Gordon that I had had no time to think of myself ; 
but now I would certainly look out for an open- 
ing. 

“ As to that,” said he, “there is a desk at your dis- 
posal in the house of Macdonald, Mactavish, and 
Mackintosh — good Scots names all of them, you will 
observe — any time you may feel inclined to begin 
work. The emoluments will be sufficient to enable 
you to live pending the finding of something better, 
should you not take kindly to figures and a three* 
legged stool.” 

“I have had some knowledge of Highlanders,” 
put in. Mr. Matheson, one of the merchant princes to 
whom I had a letter of introduction — “I have had 
some knowledge of Highlanders, and I hardly ever 
saw one of them feel at home at a desk. Put a gun, 
or a sword, or a tarry rope, or anything else that 
means fresh air and activity, in their hands, and 
they’re as much at home as a rabbit in a sandhill. 
But that’s not saying that Mr. Glenrae would not 
take kindly to banking. If he’s after rupees he will 


THE SEARCH FOR DONALD GORDON. 


71 


for liis own sake;” and Mr. Matheson cast a glance 
of intelligence at his friend. 

I hastened to say that I was very grateful to Mr. 
Macdonald for his generous offer, and that, with his 
permission, I would keep it under consideration for a 
day or two. 

“Quite right, Mr. Glenrae, quite right,” said Mr. 
Macdonald, cordially. “ Look well before you leap, 
especially in this land of deceits; though, to tell you 
the truth, and never flatter, you have done so well in 
this Gordon business that I should like to catch you. 
However, I say again you are quite right to avoid a 
rash decision. A false step involves a change ; and 
— though the proverb says that changes are light- 
some, it adds that only fools are fond of them. I am 
not one of those who pin their faith to proverbs — • 
good or bad. If a rolling stone does not gather moss 
it often gathers what is a great deal better than 
moss — an auriferous coating that we are all glad 
to admire. But too many changes are not pru- 
dent, so don’t decide hastily. It’s a poor busi- 
ness getting out of the frying-pan into the fire, and 
back again from the fire into the frying-pan. Avoid 
it.” 

“And that you may have an alternative, Mr. 
Glenrae,” added Mr. Matheson, “let me say that in 
a week or two, I have a vessel starting for Jedda, 
and that you are welcome to a free trip if you choose. 
It will enable you to look about, and give you an op- 
portunity to think out your plans. The trip will not 
take long altogether. It will be a holiday to you if 
nothing more, which after your hard work as a detec- 
tive will, I dare say, be grateful. What do you say 
to that, Macdonald?” 

“Capital,” answered Mr. Macdonald. “Let Mr. 
Glenrae go by all means. The followers of the 
Prophet are worth cultivating, and the trip will 
widen his horizon if it shouldn’t put many rupees in 
his pocket. Scotsmen like a wide horizon, Mr. 
Glenrae. I’ll wager a singed sheep’s head you’ll 


72 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


find some of our countrymen guarding Fatima’s 
tomb and making the job pay.” 

He laughed softly as a man laughs who has good 
reason to enjoy his own jest. 

I thanked Mr. Matheson, as I had thanked Mr. 
Macdonald, saying that as the ship was not sailing 
immediately I would think the matter over. But 
the suggestion pleased me, whereas, though sincerely 
grateful to Mr. Macdonald, I was not in love with 
the idea of perching on a stool. 

The upshot was that I declined Mr. Macdonald’s 
offer, and decided to visit Arabia in Mr. Matheson’ s 
ship. The kindly banker would not, however, take 
a final answer, but said that the post should be kept 
open till my return, as ships and tarry sailors might 
by that time have lost their attraction. If he has 
kept his word, there has been a vacant desk in that 
establishment for a very long time. 

The decision made, my next piece of business was 
to write home — a long letter to Glenrae, and another 
to the Elms. The Glenrae letter was out of hand 
with no effort; but the one to Sir Thomas was a dif- 
ferent matter entirely. I felt a great pity for the 
poor gentleman, which I durst not express, lest he 
should die of heartbreak ; so that my communication 
had to be somewhat of the nature of a diplomatic de- 
spatch. Unhappily, the task of composing it called 
for gifts with which I was but scantily endowed. I 
wrote the letter and rewrote it, and again wrote it; 
then took it to bed to dream over, undoing the whole 
thing on the morrow, and going through such agonies 
of composition as do not make me envy the life of an 
author. On the third day my patience was ex- 
hausted, and the clumsy essay in diplomacy was 
posted. It tried to make out that there was abun- 
dant hope for the future, while there was also a suffi- 
cient reason for abandoning the search at present; 
but I fancy it could not have imposed on anybody. 
To put the better face on the thing, I fabricated a 
little fiction about the severe heat telling on my 


DISENCHANTMENT AND DESPAIR. 73 

health, and being advised to take a short sea-trip. I 
trust I shall be forgiven, for the motive was good; 
and I know that, acute as must have been Sir 
Thomas’s disappointment, it was not any acuter 
than my own; for if his hope was centred in Don- 
ald, so also was mine. 


CHAPTER VI. 

DISENCHANTMENT AND DESPAIR. 

While the Bird of Paradise — such was the al- 
luring name of our gallant brig — was being loaded 
with a cargo of cashmere shawls, cocoanuts, drugs, 
glass beads, and other articles of merchandise likely 
to suit the cultured Mahommedan taste, I was so 
closely engaged with my own concerns and the ur- 
gent hospitality of Sir Thomas’s friends, that I paid 
but scant heed to the men with whom I was to sail. 
I had a vague notion of a picturesque medley of 
dusky children of the sun who would be likely, in 
the course of the voyage, to discourse of many mar- 
vellous things, and discover traits at once new and 
interesting. But at sea, and within the narrow con- 
fines of a two-master, one is impelled to take an active 
individual interest in his companions; and so it 
came that as soon as the towers and spires of Bom- 
bay had sunk out of sight on our weather beam, I 
was eagerly and curiously studying my surround- 
ings, and the characters of officers and crew. 

Never was mortal more swiftly or completely dis- 
enchanted. Perhaps it was because I was young 
and foolish and ignorant that I had so gaily cher- 
ished illusion, perhaps it was the fine name of the 
brig that had given me exalted and gorgeous ideas ; 
but I had anticipated a holiday sail on sunlit seas in 
a sort of Cleopatra barge, with companions fitly rep- 
resenting, if not the pomp and magnificence, at least 
the poetry and romance of the Orient. My punish- 


74 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


ment for indulging such fantastic reveries was speedy 
and condign. The Bird of Paradise bore as much 
resemblance to the ship of my imagination as a 
hedgehog bears to a leopard. In plain truth, she 
was an ill-smelling, leaky old coal-bunker, with a 
crew of the most villainous-looking desperadoes that 
ever swung from a yard-arm. What their past had 
been it required little shrewdness to guess. A child 
could have told that whatever pleasure, whatever 
romance there could be in sailing with the dregs of 
Asiatic pirate crews, of men who, for reasons to be 
comprehended by the simplest, had found it ex- 
pedient to lay aside for a little their natural vocation 
of cutting throats, such pleasure and romance were 
mine. Natural^, I was amazed to find such men 
on Mr. Matheson’s ship, but the explanation came 
later. I had forgotten that the Scotch are frugal! 
and did not know how Asia pours her scum upon 
the sea. 

My security, such as it was, lay in the fact that, 
among themselves, there was not the least evidence 
of good will. They regarded each other with open 
aversion, at times even with savage hatred. Sullen, 
suspicious, and incommunicative, in all their lives 
they had probably never known what it is to smile 
out of pure good nature or innocent hilarity. For 
their features were fixed in a perpetual scowl which 
nothing could soften. Towards each other, as to- 
wards their officers, they had the sulky, defiant de- 
meanour of caged beasts of prey, and, no doubt, they 
had a sense of imprisonment. Off duty or on, they 
indulged in no freedom or jollity of intercourse. 
No stories were told, no songs were sung. You 
would have listened in vain for the hilarious laugh 
or the jovial ditty from the forecastle; but if you 
had hearkened close you might have heard mumbled 
threats and deadly curses in plenty. The spirit was 
that of a chain-gang working at the point of the bay- 
onet or the muzzle of the rifle. Misfortune, failure 
in hazardous and bloody enterprises, had brought 


DISENCHANTMENT AND DESPAIR. 


75 


them together, and though the proverb says that 
crime puts those on an equal footing whom it defiles, 
yet somehow these rogues were not able to frater- 
nize. 

The officers matched the crew. Though Captain 
Holden was an Englishman and Mr. Malcolm, the 
mate, Scotch, there was nothing gracious or prepos- 
sessing in either of them. The captain was short 
and broad, square rigged, with a tremendous breadth 
of beam, as a sailor would sa} T , and his squat, burly 
frame had in it the muscular strength and energy of 
the tiger. His face, hairy as a Skye terrier’s, 
showed no feature in particular, save the huge nose, 
which a long course of grog had turned to the like- 
ness of a purple knob, and bulging eyebrows that 
hung over small deep-set eyes as a cliff overhangs a 
cavern. His visage was truculent, and his temper 
and voice were in harmony. His most caressing 
tones were the growl of the thunder, his anger was 
the fury of a fiend. His natural qualities, too, had 
been well cultivated. The broadside of oaths he 
poured upon his men when anything went amiss was 
an achievement in profanity to he remembered with 
a creep}^ shudder for a lifetime, and the gleam of his 
eyes, and. the way in which he fingered his pistols 
under the stress of passion, indicated that he had no 
childish reverence for the sanctity of human life. 

As might be expected, his career had been event- 
ful, his experiences startling and varied. He 
boasted — and I am sure truthfully — that he could 
show more seams and scars than any other man of 
his size then living. “ A man with a greater extent 
of hide might beat me,” he would sometimes say, 

“ but to the square inch show me him who equals me. 
By Jupiter, if I was to preach on that kind of tat- 
tooing, a week would be too short for my sermon.” 
And you immediately assented. 

The mate could not be described as being of a 
milder natural disposition, but only as being less 
fully developed. His name for cruelty was less 


76 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


eminent than his chief’s, but he was training fast, 
and gave high promise of brutality. Meanwhile he 
garnished his speech plentifully with blood-curdling 
expletives, took his grog and practised assiduously 
on the crew. The first day out he knocked a sailor 
down with a marline-spike, under the very eyes of 
the captain, who was too indifferent even to curse 
approvingly. A little later he sent another head 
foremost into the hold (which happened to be open 
thus early on the voyage), without so much as cast- 
ing a downward glance to see whether the man were 
dead or alive, and not a day passed that he did not 
distinguish himself by some deed of tyranny or vio- 
lence. 

Such, in brief, were my shipmates, and it will be 
easily understood how quickly and completely my 
dreams of a holiday voyage vanished. 

It enhanced the discomforts of the situation that I 
fancied myself regarded by the captain and mate as 
an interloper, a spy, whose proper place was with the 
sharks outside. But on that point I was unwittingly 
flattering myself. Neither of them troubled his head 
in the least about me, nor ever came near me, except 
it were by chance, or in the way of duty. To be 
sure, the captain usually rolled out some hoarse 
greeting when we met in the morning, but he never 
delayed his step for conversation, and never once 
evinced a desire to know how I was enjoying my- 
self. Only at meal-times did we come into close 
contact, and then I was glad to get back to the deck 
and the disinfecting air of heaven. 

Nor was the mate much more sociable. One even- 
ing indeed he spoke to me of Scotland, but as his talk 
was of nothing but fallen angels fuddling in taverns 
about the Broomielaw and riotous orgies by drunken 
sailors, I did not encourage him. He left me with 
a feeling of profound contempt, never again making 
any attempt to draw me into conversation. When 
we met, his looks declared as plainly as looks could 
that I was a priggish, puritanical landsman, who 


DISENCHANTMENT AND DESPAIR. 


77 


was no fit company for a jolly blasphemous seaman 
like himself. 

Mr. Watson, the supercargo, was the only soul on 
board who took the smallest interest in me, or with 
whom I cared to speak. He understood my position, 
and, I think, had compassion for me. At any rate 
he tolerated my amateurish views of seafaring men 
and things, and sought opportunity to discover topics 
we could discuss with mutual pleasure. He was 
fond of talking of Edinburgh, which he knew well, 
having attended the High School there. We com- 
pared notes on our reading, and he was certainly not 
the worse read man of the two. 

“This roving, free and easy life, Mr. Glenrae,” he 
said one day, “has a tendency, as Burns says, to 
‘harden a’ within, and petrify the feelings,’ but I try 
to keep a fresh sweet corner in my affections for the 
thoughts and fancies of choice souls. After all, a 
good book is better than their riotous games at nine- 
pins with virtue and character, and to read about a 
pretty girl is better than to go about carousing with 
an ugly and debauched one. As Sancho Panza says 
about sleep, God bless the man who invented books.” 

Books, however, were the subjects of our by-talk 
only. Our conversations included India, Arabia, 
and many other quarters of the globe ; but oftenest 
they were about our companions. 

“Just look at them, Mr. Glenrae,” said Mr. Wat- 
son once; “aren’t they a pretty set? Haven’t they 
the look of having been born, bred, trained, edu- 
cated, for the special purpose of giving the hangman 
a job? Without the testimony of your eyes, could 
you imagine that so much villainy could be con- 
densed within a few skins, and on a small trading 
brig? Old Hick would blush for them ; for he- — if 
reports be true — is a gentleman, and it’s libelling him 
to suppose he would risk his reputation with such 
gibbet birds. You have the felicity, sir, and I hope 
you appreciate it, of making companionship with the 
flower and blossom, nay, the choice ultimate fruit of 


78 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


all the vices ever engrafted on the unlucky seed of 
Adam. Study them; you will never have such a 
chance again of observing finished and perfected cut- 
throats. Innocent folks in England talk of the New- 
gate Calendar and shudder. I wish they could come 
here to have their nerves braced. They would return 
home firm in the conviction that poor Jack, who was 
hanged for his little frolics, was a pattern of virtue 
and respectability.” 

“And how in the name of wonder do these men 
come to be on Mr. Matheson’s ship?” I asked. 

Mr. Watson screwed his face knowingly, and 
winked. 

“Ah, ha! now you are asking questions,” he 
laughed. “ How comes the purse to rule the con- 
science? Mr. Matheson was born ayont the Tweed, 
and knows the value of bawbees. These rinsings of 
creation are got cheap, because they’re flying from 
the scaffold.” 

“Flying from the scaffold? How do you know?” 

“From experience and the modicum of wit 
Heaven gave me. Respectability’s a thing we don’t 
care to pay for on East India traders. And that 
minds me, are you armed, Mr. Glenrae?” 

“As Nature armed me,” I rejoined. “I did not 
think it was necessary to come on board Mr. Mathe- 
son’s ship armed.” 

“ Necessity’s often as you take it,” he said signifi- 
cantly. “ In this golden clime it might not be neces- 
sary to wear clothes, but you do it all the same. A 
pistol’s not heavy, and sometimes it’s very handy. I 
always carry one, and this little thing besides;” and 
turning up the edge of his waistcoat he revealed the 
handle of a dagger. 

“ That’s to prog them who might take a thought of 
progging me,” he remarked. “I have found it use- 
ful at close quarters more than once. Come this 
way, Mr. Glenrae.” 

He led me to his cabin, which was office and bed- 
room in one. When we were inside he carefully 


DISENCHANTMENT AND DESPAIR. 


79 


closed and fastened the door; then getting upon his 
knees he unlocked a heavy iron box, which, notwith- 
standing its immense weight, was fixed to the floor 
with iron rivets. 

“ This is for the ship’s papers,” he explained, look- 
ing up with a smile of intelligence. “ But you can 
put more than hats in a band -box. Here take your 
choice of these !” And he lifted an armful of pistols. 

I drew back a step with a quick sensation of chilli- 
ness. The startling discoveries were crowding too 
closely upon each other for my nerves. 

“Oh, you’d better have one,” he said, in Jiis mat- 
ter-of-fact way. “ It’s nasty to be caught unprepared. 
I dare say you know something about firearms.” 

“ I know more about fowling-pieces than pistols,” I 
answered, taking one with a trembling hand. 

“Well, well, you’ll soon get used to it. Nothing 
trains a man with the pistol like knowing he may be 
turned into a target at less than a moment’s notice.” 

“And do you really mean to say there’s danger?” 

“When you’ve been a little longer at sea, you’ll 
spare yourself the trouble of asking such a question,” 
he answered with a little laugh. 

“I know I must appear lamentably ignorant,” I 
said humbly ; “ but the plain fact is I was not pre- 
pared for this. ” 

“ Tut, tut. God bless me; don’t take it so much to 
heart then,” returned Mr. Watson, cheerfully. “ We 
must all begin life. The best of us is born soft, you 
know, and continues soft till the world and the devil 
(people put them together and name them destiny) 
have done the hardening.” 

“Then there is danger?” I said, for that was the 
point on which my mind dwelt. 

“There you are again,” responded Mr. Watson, 
gaily. “ That’s just as you look at it. If the risk 
of being killed without time for prayers is danger, 
then a blunt man might have to confess we’re not in 
the safest place in the world. That’s a good one, Mr. 
Glenrae; take it with you.” 


80 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


I stowed the weapon away while he rummaged in 
the box. 

“ Here, will you have one of these?” he asked a mo- 
ment later, holding up a sheaf of daggers. 

But the}" were too suggestive, and I declined the 
offer. 

“Well, well, so be it,” he remarked, putting back 
daggers and pistols into their place. “ Since you 
won’t have a dagger, I suppose it’s no use offering 
you a sword. No, I thought so. Well, now for the 
copestone of the counsel,” he continued, standing 
erect and looking me straight in the eyes. “Don’t 
let any one get too familiar. The moment you smell 
trouble draw and blaze away. If } T ou don’t kill they 
will; if you do kill, it’s but justice anyway. If you 
hesitate or deliberate you’re lost. And now lest 
they should suspect a plot let’s go out.” Saying 
which he opened the door, and we w-ent on deck. 

For the rest of that day I was hot, nervous, de- 
pressed and ill at ease, yet with a certain feeling of 
consequence. Firearms give courage as the saddle 
confers authority. The touch of my pistol-hilt 
thrilled me, and many a time did I surreptitiously 
slip in my hand just to gain assurance by grasp- 
ing it. 

I kept, as you may think, a vigilant eye on the 
crew, for though there was not a whit more danger 
now than there had been from the beginning, I de- 
tected treachery and a murderous intent in every act 
and look of the men. I expected bloodshed, and tried 
to convince myself I was prepared for it. 

But, indeed, it was to matter little to me whether I 
were armed or not. The feeling of heat and depression 
grew upon me hour by hour. At first I naturally re- 
ferred it to my conversation with Mr. Watson. But 
in this I was mistaken. I went to bed deadly sick, 
to toss in a feverish paroxysm through the long night, 
and next morning I was so giddy that on attempting 
to rise I staggered and sank to the floor. When I 
gathered myself together the room was whirling like 


DISENCHANTMENT AND DESPAIR. 81 

a huge spinning-wheel, carrying me with it in its 
gyrations. Steadying myself a little, I managed to 
crawl back to my berth on hands and knees, my eyes 
wellnigh sightless, and my brows throbbing as if 
there were steam machinery inside. My skin burned 
with a prickly heat, and my throat and tongue were 
parched, sore, and swollen. 

“ I am in for it,” I groaned; “ God in heaven ! and 
in such a hole as this !” 

And presently, when Mr. Watson looked in to see 
why I was not getting up, my worst fears were con- 
firmed. 

“I’m devilish sorry to see this,” he said, after ex- 
amining me and hearing my symptoms. “ Don’t be 
frightened, but you’ve got the fever that Portuguese 
chap died of. You must have brought it on board 
with you; it was raging in some quarters of the city. 
I’m devilish sorry, we’re so ill off for medicine, or 
indeed for anything that a sick body needs. But 
we’ll do our best; and mind, if you go and die on our 
hands, I’ll never forgive you. I’ll make you snug, 
and then I’ll send the captain to see you.” 

In the course of half an hour or so, the captain 
came in and looked at me for a moment, as he would 
at a sick beast. 

“Going to kick the bucket, youngster, eh?” he 
said, in a voice as hard as the nether millstone. 
“Keep her head to the sea, and you may ride the 
storm, though I kin see you’re pretty bad. Mr. 
Matheson might be worried if you was to go off on 
his ship.” Then he asked some perfunctory questions 
and left me. 

A little later the mate, too, came in, and his kind- 
ness was, if possible, more cruel than the captain’s 
callousness. 

“ There’s no saying how this may go, you know, 
Mr. Glenrae,” he said, after lying in his throat by 
saying he was sorry for me. “ Fevers on board ship 
are like simoons in these seas ; you never know what’s 
to the upshot. On East India traders, too, sick 
6 


82 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


folks have less chance of making port than their 
friends could wish. There’s little room, evil smells, 
no resources, and the devil for physician. If you 
have any message you would like delivered to your 
friends, or anything to return to Scotland, I am at 
your service. Maybe there’s some relics you’d like 
returned or something of that sort.” 

A man may be dying, but it hurts him to be bru- 
tally told so. For the first time in my existence I ap- 
preciated the boon of life, the simple privilege of con- 
tinuing to be and of the sovereign balm of sympathy. 

I shook with fright and great beads broke out on 
my brow. Yet neither sickness nor fear could keep 
off anger. To die with fortitude, to renounce hopes, 
schemes, ambitions, to lay down life in its rosy morn- 
ing hours when the world is full of promise of bliss, 
to do this at a moment’s notice and with resignation 
is possible, but it is not in human nature to be grate- 
ful for cruelty. The disease had not yet wholly mas- 
tered my spirit ; there was one fierce spark left, and 
so, rising on my elbow and speaking in a voice that 
trembled and quivered, I ordered the man off. 

“ Go !” I said. “ Let me never look on your face 
again. And when you come to die, pray you have a 
better comforter.” 

He went without a sign of compassion or contri- 
tion, indeed with a smirk of disdain, and I, falling 
back with a feeling of being forsaken by God and man, 
lost heart, and a scalding torrent soaked the coarse 
blankets. And in that moment of dire punishment, 
as if present evils were not enough, there smote upon 
my conscience the lightning-like stroke of an accusing 
memory. The thwarted plans of my father, the un- 
heeded sorrow of my mother, were as arrows of fire 
in my soul. Fate had, indeed, permitted me to please 
myself, but she was now exacting payment, and it was 
my life. 

I had a feeling, I say, of being forsaken, but in the 
graciousness of Providence I had a friend even now. 
Not long after the mate left me, Mr. Watson returned, 


disenchantment and despaie. 83 

gave me some medicine, spoke cheerf ully to me, telling 
me to keep up my heart, for that many a man had 
had fever on shipboard and lived long years after to 
tell the tale. But I could see that out of his humanity 
he was dissembling his real thoughts, and so I deter- 
mined, if possible, to get at them. 

‘'You have seen cases of this sort before,” I said. 
“Is it serious? Be plain and tell me if you think I 
have a chance to pull through.” 

He seemed unwilling to answer the question, which 
of course was an incentive to me to press him. 

“If you don’t answer,” I said, “I’ll know it’s be- 
cause you’re afraid to tell me the worst.” 

“You know the old proverb, Mr. Glenrae,” he re- 
turned, slowly, “that while there’s life there’s hope.” 

“Just so,” I said, “and that in cases like mine 
doesn’t mean much, or rather it means a great 
deal.” 

“ I will not mislead you, Mr. Glenrae,” he rejoined, 
shifting about uneasily on his feet. “I think you 
have a bad attack, and this is a foul hole, and we are 
without proper remedies. But then you are young, 
and have a good constitution, and that, as any doctor 
will tell you, is worth gallons of drugs.” 

“Thank you,” I said. “I wanted your candid 
opinion.” 

And now when I thought there was no chance of 
life, I grew calmer. Indeed, my fear almost van- 
ished ; for as the wind is tempered to the shorn lamb, 
there is hardly an evil but brings its anodyne with it. 

Mr. Watson left me abruptly, but presently he came 
back carrying a book in his hand. By this time I 
was posting hard to the stage of dreamy indifference, 
and thought he was going to employ his leisure in 
reading a story to me. But it was a Bible, not a 
story book, that the good soul held in his hand. 

“ Well, mate,” he said, with an odd falsetto inflec- 
tion, as he sidled sheepishly up to my bed, “I have 
been a good many years out of Scotland, and have 
forgotten much of the training of my youth and the 


84 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


customs of my native land ; but the memory of them 
all isn’t quite gone, and I am going to do now what 
I think your mother would be well pleased with;” 
and, sitting down on the edge of my berth, he began 
to read. 

His voice had a tremor in it unnatural in one bred 
to the sea. He coughed a good deal, too; indeed, he 
seemed to have infinite difficulty with his throat; 
and when he looked at me, it was furtively, from the 
corner of his eye, as if he wished to evade my gaze. 
I remember dimly wondering what could be the mat- 
ter with him, and why he was acting so strangely. 
I don’t think I had the least idea that his emotion 
was for me; I don’t think I any longer connected 
external events or circumstances with my own con- 
dition or existence. I have an impression that I 
tried to comfort Mr. Watson; for he moved my 
pity. Then as that mood passed (all my humours 
were fleeting) he got mixed up in the most fantastic 
fashion with scenes and persons he had never seen 
or heard of ; and there were moments when I could 
have laughed outright at the incongruous figure 
he cut. And then he would pass out of my reckon- 
ing altogether, and I would find myself suddenly 
in the midst of old friends, or performing some 
prodigious feat of strength and agility such as 
mortal had never attempted before. I leaped from 
lofty towers without hurting myself, scaled pre- 
cipices hundreds of feet high at a single bound, 
wrestled a score of men at once, and triumphantly 
threw them all, fought wilder beasts than were ever 
known at Ephesus and did many other marvellous 
things to my own perfect joy and satisfaction. 

Occasionally I got into ugly scrapes, but my super- 
natural dexterity got me easily out of them all. 
Again I would change my identity with the facility 
of the hero of a fairy-tale, to revel in phantasmago- 
ria! antics that the sane imagination cannot picture. 
Sometimes I was myself, and sometimes I was 
somebody else ; but so far as I can recollect I was 


DISENCHANTMENT AND DESPAIR. 


85 


never for an instant a fever-stricken wretch on board 
a poisonous ship. 

I came back from one of my flights to find Mr. 
Watson on his knees by my bedside. His attitude 
dimly suggested distress. I understood from him 
afterwards that, putting out my hand, I patted him 
encouragingly on the head, telling him not to take 
misfortunes so much to heart ; that his troubles would 
blow over and leave him happier than ever. And 
then I have a vision of a figure,* with streaming eyes, 
bending over me and nervously twining his fingers in 
mine. Yet oddly enough the first words I can recall 
were singularly at variance with his appearance. 

“ Damme if I’ve played the parson for years before,” 
he laughed, furtively drawing the back of his hand 
across his eyes; and then, as if fearing an answer, he 
hurried away. 

It might be that same evening, or it might be some 
days or even a week later, for I have but a vague and 
confused memory of that period, that he rushed into 
my cabin with a deathly face, and, in an extremely 
excited manner, began to bawl something in my ear. 
I thought his behaviour very extraordinary, and told 
him so. But he only bawled the louder and the more 
frantically. Trying hard to make him out, I discov- 
ered presently that his incoherent talk was about the 
brig. What he wanted to tell me, however, I could 
not in the least guess. “ Now, it’s a pitiable thing,” 
I said to myself, “to see a nice respectable man in 
drink. The poor fellow hasn’t the remotest notion 
what he’s saying or trying to say.” 

Catching the word ‘‘waterspout” I connected it at 
once with familiar waterfalls in the Highlands; these 
again, by a natural sequence, with angling expedi- 
tions and baskets of trout, and so on through a long 
train of memories. I was recalled by a sudden jar 
which made the brig tremble and vibrate to her cen- 
tre. “What is that?” I demanded. 

“They are firing cannon on deck to break it,” he 
roared. He made ludicrous grimaces at me as he 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


86 

bellowed, but for the sake of friendship I let that 
pass. 

“ Don’t you think that a very foolish thing to do?” 

I asked. “ Clearly I am among madmen !” I reflected. 

“ I only hope their insanity is of the harmless kind.” 

“Good God!” yelled Mr. Watson, with a face that 
was comical in its terror. “ The brig is going down. 
That gun was fired to break the spout.” 

The announcement made no impression on my dis- 
ordered brain. 

“Going down!” I repeated, amused at the illusion. 

“ Why that is stark, clean impossible. Try and pull 
yourself together.” 

“For Heaven’s sake, Glenrae, rouse yourself,” he 
cried again in a shriller, more fearful voice than be- 
fore. “ I tell you we are going down. There’s not 
an instant to be lost.” 

As he spoke the brig lurched violently, so that I 
was hurled against the back of my berth. At .the 
same time there was a deafening noise as of thunder 
and splintering wood. What Mr. Watson’s words 
failed to do the shock did. I sat up awake, conscious, 
terrified, and burning to know what was happening. 

But before I could ask a question there was another 
crash, as if a sudden blow had rent our timbers, and 
the brig flew up at the bows like a fisherman’s punt 
when a heavy weight is swung on behind. I had my 
sconce dented in the bunk, and Mr. Watson swept 
the floor with his back like a kind of incontinent 
besom. When in the rebound the stern went up in 
turn I fell back to my place breathless and helpless, 
and the supercargo, scrambling to his feet with the 
cat-like agilitj- of a sailor, made desperately for the 
companion-way. Then for an instant the vessel 
seemed to lie still, but the next she was reeling and 
dancing like an eggshell in a boiling caldron. Now 
she would rear from the bows, now from the stern, 
then tumble on her^ beam-ends, careening till mast 
and keel must have been level, then rebound, then 
spring, shaking herself like a thing demented with 


DISENCHANTMENT AND DESPAIR. 


87 


pain, and all the while she cried and groaned in every 
timber with a terrorizing, human-like sense of the 
pangs of dissolution. I clung to my bunk with all 
my feeble might, unable to discern anything clearly, 
yet conscious, in spite of darkness and terror, of the 
swish of water rushing through the open door. 

After a while Mr. Watson came back, his face 
ghastly, his manner maniacal. I looked at him be- 
seechingly for news, for in the tumult I could not 
hope to make myself heard. He did not keep me long 
in suspense. 

“Smashed by the stern, smashed all over,” he 
shouted at the pitch of his voice, bending over me as 
he held on by the side of my berth. “ The spout hit 
us, carrying with it masts and rigging, and now 
we’re reeling in the grip of a tornado. The fury of 
the pit’s let loose on us. Wind and fire and water, 
heaven and hell and the sea, all contending against 
us. And worse than that we’re waterlogged, and 
the infernal crew threatening to take to the boats. 
Captain’s keeping them at it with the pistol. Keep 
you still, I’ll come back again.” 

I could say nothing, I could do nothing, only lie and 
listen to the raging of pandemonium, and speculate 
what would come of it all. Presently Mr. Watson 
. returned, his face whiter than ever. 

“ The brig’s done for,” he shouted. “ The first blow 
killed her. It’s terrific. I have been through si- 
moon and tornado, and never saw anything like this. 
They ’re going to batten down, though Heaven knows 
why. I must run. But don’t you be frightened, I’ll 
not desert you.” 

He bolted up the companion-way, and the hatches 
closed with a bang. 

I passed an eternity hearkening in the darkness, 
which the lightning made lurid, expecting every mo- 
ment to feel the suction and hear the gurgle of death 
as the ship went down. But we were dying hard. 

By-and-by I began to think that the fury of the 
tempest was abating, and that the movements of the 


88 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


brig were steadier. Then I wondered why they were 
keeping me closed down there like a rat in its hole. 
Another eternity passed ere there was any evidence 
that I was remembered. At last the hatches were 
thrown open, and I looked with joyful and frantic 
anxiety for Mr. Watson. To my horror he did not 
come. Sicker with fear than disease I got to my el- 
bow to listen. In a momentary lull of the blast I 
heard the rattle of ropes on the ship’s side, and then 
a splash as if some fiat-bottomed object had struck 
the water. A terrible fear, a terrible suspicion struck 
into my vitals, and, weak as I was I rose, and grop- 
ing my way through the darkness to a port-hole thrust 
my face against the glass. There were boats along- 
side, and the officers and crew, who looked like de- 
mons in the livid light, were struggling and fighting 
to get into them. With the frenzy of death, twisting 
and tugging and tearing, I tried to open the port, but 
the screws were stiff and my fingers nerveless, and I 
failed. Then, my face hard against the glass, I 
shrieked as only a lost man can shriek. The next 
instant the glass was in shivers, and I was imploring 
those without not to abandon me. But the tempest 
drowned my voice; no one heard, at least no one 
heeded me. One by one, in the hellish conflagration 
of sea and sky, the boats rowed away, leaving me 
alone on the sinking brig. 


CHAPTER VII. 

I ABANDON HOPE. 

By the glare of streaming fires I could watch the 
boats driving deliriously before the wind, which still 
blew with hurricane force. To any eye but that 
sharpened by the terror of despair the flying, leap- 
ing specks would not have been distinguishable from 
momentary rifts in the careering billows. For in 
that terrific scene nothing was distinct, nothing in- 


I ABANDON HOPE. 


89 


dividual; there was no ocean and no sky, but high 
and low a whirling chaos of foam and spray, with 
gleams of ghastly green in the breaking mountains 
and of hellish lividness in the swirling chasms and 
shattering crests. 

The noise was as the shivering roar of heavy batter- 
ies pouring death on each other at close range, and the 
light as the hurtling blaze of their belching muzzles. 
Sea and thunder crashed together as if heaven and 
earth were bursting in universal wreck, the wicked 
hiss and shriek of the tempest rising dominant at 
times like the screeching of demons drunk with the 
exultation of havoc. The frenzied waters — racing, 
reeling, tumbling, eddying with the drift of a High- 
land snowstorm, and the booming confusion of ten 
thousand tide-rips — spun and tossed the brig like a 
top or a cork. And she, like a sentient thing, 
seemed demented with pain and fear. Now she 
would poise shuddering on a white crest high in air, 
so that I looked into a horrid gulf dyed as with blood ; 
the next instant, plunging with dizzying velocity 
down a yawning steep, she would crouch in the hol- 
low of a great wave, as a hare might crouch in a cleft 
of the earth from pursuing hounds, until the curling 
breakers, with frothing, crimson lips and hideous hiss- 
ings, coiled in upon her like monstrous snakes bury- 
ing and crushing her in their folds. Then, groaning 
and shaking, she would wallow in a caldron of yeast, 
canting now to one side, now to the other, so violently 
that she must have threshed the surges with her 
masts. Again she would be pitched aloft far into the 
blinding rack, to be hurled back, pounded and bat- 
tered as with steam hammers, and sent headlong into 
a dancing avalanche of surf. She would recover 
with the tottering stupor of a creature stunned or 
half drowned; and there would be a momentary 
pause; but only because the infuriated waters were 
gathering for a fiercer and deadlier attack. Rally- 
ing in piled -up, wreathed masses, as if the ocean 
were heaving from its utmost depths to gather force, 


90 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


on they would come again, their angry combs bent 
forward in ravenous anticipation of prey, their tow- 
ering fronts mantled by ragged foam, to fling them- 
selves once more upon her in crushing cataracts and 
torrents that tore and wrenched. 

Every moment I expected — as far as expectation 
was possible — she would founder. How she lived 
was a marvel. A right good sailor she must have 
been in spite of her ugly looks and her evil name; for 
never surely did craft survive so mad an onset by 
the spirits of storm and destruction. 

Smothered and pelted, now deep in billows that 
strove with a living force and fury to tear me away, 
now beaten to stupefaction by the driving spra3 T , 
again dashed from side to side so furiously it is a 
wonder my bones were not ground to powder, only 
the vice-like grip which the fear of death gives could 
have held me in my place'. My fingers, indeed, were 
like a dead man’s in tenacity and fixedness: they 
might have been cut or broken; they could not have 
been loosened. If you have ever felt the clutch of a 
drowning man you may partly understand the tensity 
of my grasp. And holding thus in the midst of dis- 
tracting buffeting and uproar, I shrieked as often as 
I had vent and wit, shrieked till my voice failed me 
and my cry sank to a hoarse gasping rattle, that tore 
chest and throat as raw as if they were being scraped 
by a rough-edged instrument. The situation gained 
an added poignancy and cruelty from the fact that 
all my powers, physical and mental, were absorbed 
in feeling. I could suffer but I could not act. Had 
I been myself I should have been on deck in an in- 
stant and head first into the surging wilderness in 
pursuit of the treacherous crew. My fate would have 
been soon decided; for the swimmer did not exist 
who could that night have escaped the devouring 
maw of the sea. But there would have been a mo- 
ment’s satisfaction in battling, and a speedy end to 
suffering. As it was, I could not so much as make 
an effort; so I stood there with my head thrust 


I ABANDON HOPE. 


91 


through the port-hole, battered, crushed, choked by 
the pitching ship and the breaching seas, yet franti- 
cally straining to hold on and to hail the quickly van- 
ishing boats. 

Every fibre in my body trembled with a mortal 
weakness and terror. My fingers were getting 
cramped and palsied, my breath was gone to a gasp ; 
yet ever as my strength waned the desire to shout 
for succour became the more frantic. Have you 
ever seen a spent animal panting with open mouth 
for a little air in its extremity? Even so I panted 
then, with distended but voiceless lips. I would have 
given a million worlds, had I owned them, for the 
return of my voice, just for one instant, to make an 
appeal for help that would rise above the howling 
and breaking of the storm. But the storm main- 
tained its supremacy. 

In a sudden darkness the shock of a tremendous 
broadside hurled me back with a bellyful of salt- 
water. I scrambled up sputtering, to be hit and 
knocked down again; the second time I rose with 
greater difficulty, and, clutching desperately at the 
port-hole, looked over the flame-lit waste. There 
were no boats ; either the sea had swallowed them or 
they were hidden by the storm-scud. In either case 
they were lost to me. 

An excruciating anguish of mind and body came 
upon me; a horrifying sense of being left alone and 
face to face with death. Yet it could not be. Gra- 
cious God, I was not to perish thus! For one mo- 
ment despair gave me maniacal energy, and I found 
my voice in a wild yell, not the sharp cry of simple 
fear, but a delirious and convulsive outburst of the 
whole being, as if the doomed wretch would over- 
come Fate by vehemency of appeal and fierceness of 
protest. Then all at once a giddy sickness seized me, 
my head got light, sea and ship flew round together, 
the din fell to a far-off murmur, buzzed and died, 
and I, losing my feeble hold, sank splashing into the 
water on the floor. 


92 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


I came to my senses drifting to and fro like a piece 
of wreckage in the eddies of a flooded river, and half 
crawling, half swimming and in utter blackness I got 
back to my berth. I was no sooner in than I was 
out again, floundering and spluttering on my back. 
Recovering myself with a mighty effort, I managed 
to regain my tossing bed, and as I strove to keep in 
it, suddenly there came back to me with terrific and 
appalling vividness the realization of my position. 
To feel was to act instantly and with the concen- 
trated energy of every faculty and fibre. 

I leaped up, to be knocked on the head, and sent 
once more floundering and spluttering on the floor. 
Ere I could find my feet the flood came pouring 
through the open port full in my face, sweeping me 
across the cabin; then, as the brig canted, it poured 
out, dragging me back and lashing me against the 
side. 

By degrees I got my breath and my feet, and 
thrusting my head through the port-hole with such 
frantic precipitancy that the jagged edges of the 
glass ripped my neck and shoulders, I strained my 
eyes for some object or sign of hope. As well might 
Dante’s condemned shades have looked for happiness 
in their Inferno. 

The heart did not beat that could have dared to 
hope in face of that titanic and unbridled fury of the 
sea and the storm. The whirlwind and the light- 
ning, the thunder and the crashing gulf of waters, 
mocked at the idea of escape. And I had but to look 
on the convulsed and scudding desolation, the Plilege- 
thon of flying rolling mountains wreathed with fiery 
foam and often spouting like volcanoes, to feel the 
blasting force of the mockery. The powers of dark- 
ness and the deep, of fire and tempest, were in pos- 
session of the world, and in a frenzy of elemental 
frolic were tearing it into fragments, whirling and 
tossing it in an indescribable jumble, which as was 
the riot of hell itself. 

My crowding impressions were such as may not be 


I ABANDON HOPE. 


93 


set down in words. One moment it seemed as if the 
riven ocean were bellowing in agony; the next that 
it was animated by a host of furies, and roared in 
the glee of devastation and destruction. There is no 
shape of horror it did not take, no sound of terror it 
did not simulate. A million trumpets were inciting 
its legions to the charge, a million voices were an- 
swering in shrieking ecstasy, a million arms were 
reaching to clutch and destroy the brig, a million 
eyes were watching in triumph for the inevitable 
catastrophe. To say that the elements had broken 
loose, had burst every bond of restraint, would in no 
wise express the sense of demoniac hate and hostility 
that was upon me. To my distraught fancy there 
was an inspiring directing will behind the raving 
savagery. Every leap was made in fiendish and in- 
tentional ferocity at my life. Every sucking swirl 
was meant to drag the ship to her death. The uproar 
increased rather than diminished. As before, the 
breaching seas choked and the scarlet drift blinded 
me ; and sometimes, too, I had scurrying reflections 
of a drawn horrified face, more awful than the anger 
of the elements. 

Gripping with all my might I strove to hold on. 
But what was my puny strength, what would have 
been the strength of ten thousand men, against the 
rage of winds and waves? Hurled back by a stun- 
ning blow as from a giant’s fist, I was thrown 
sprawling on the floor. I la}” for a little in a sort of 
stupor, then managing somehow to pick myself up, 
I crept once more into my bunk. 

Heaven alone knows why I got there. It may have 
been from some vague notion that bed was the proper 
place to die in; or perhaps I acted from a mere in- 
voluntary effort to evade the cold black water that 
seemed to be following me with lethal intent. What- 
ever might be the reason, the refuge profited me but 
little; for with every plunge and lurch of the brig I 
was deluged. 

Of the drenching indeed I was not conscious j but 


94 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


the cruel element coiling, lapping, sucking, now in 
vicious spurts as if to force me into the grave, then 
softly and insidiously as if to bear me off by stealth, 
then crawling over me as if to discover an entrance 
to my vitals and despatch me where I lay, made me 
pant and quake with icy dread. 

In such a turmoil of feeling, coherency of thought 
and accuracy of sensation were alike impossible. Yet 
on one point — if on one only — my mind was preter- 
naturally clear — that I was dying for my transgres- 
sions, dying alone and forsaken, utterly without 
comfort or consolation. If ever sin came back accus- 
ingly on mortal it so came back on me in that fearful 
hour when the deep was roaring for my life, and the 
trampled and staggering brig appeared every mo- 
ment to be yielding it up. Yet it was hard, excru- 
ciatingly hard, to accept the fiat of inexorable jus- 
tice, so disproportionate seemed the punishment to 
the offence. Was there no pity or mercy left in the 
world? Could no man of the many millions that 
lived stretch forth a saving hand to me? Did those 
whom I had wronged and disobeyed know that I was 
perishing in the grip of the ruthless sea, and, if so, 
would they not plead for me? Was there no deliver- 
ance? the recoiling flesh asked ; no plea, no prayer, 
no form of repentance that would avail? No, no; 
I had chosen my course, I had pleased myself, and 
this was the result, to die where no human eye. could 
see, no human arm aid, no human heart pity; past 
hope, past care, past help. 

I tried to pray, and the prayer was the cry of a lost 
soul for mercy — “Father in heaven, save me, save 
me! Thou who commandest the raging of the sea 
to cease, keep me from perishing.” 

But Heaven answers in its own way and its own 
time. I saw no sign of intervention or leniency, and 
in the insanity of the castigated sinner I revolted. 
If I was doomed, why this lingering torture? Could 
I not be allowed to die quickly? Why had my late 
companions not thrown me overboard or drawn a 


I ABANDON HOPE. 


05 


sharp blade across my throat? They were devils 
enough to do it. Why was I selected for sacrifice to 
a blind vengeance? Were my sins greater than the 
sins of multitudes who were well and happy? And 
so the impious questions multiplied till the rebel 
broke down in a gush of tears, which I hope were 
accepted as a token of penitence. 

When the fit had passed, I closed my burning eyes, 
feeling that no light would evermore fall on them till 
that light rose that shall not fade away. Ere the 
morrow morning I should be “deeper than did ever 
plummet sound,” coffined in the black hulk of the 
engulfed brig, and no mortal should ever look on my 
grave among the green and slimy things that strew 
the Indian Ocean. Well, well! 

“ We cease to grieve, cease to be fortune’s slaves, 

Nay, cease to die, by dying.” 

I lay quiet now, save for the pitching of the berth, 
for there was no longer any motive to move. The 
tempest was evidently abating, though the waves 
still leaped madly against the ship’s sides, sometimes 
making clean breaches over her. I wondered why 
she held so long afloat. But, doubtless, she was go- 
ing steadily if slowly down. She would sink gradu- 
ally for a while, then, in a crucial moment, when 
the flood should have gained a proper hold, she would 
go down with a quick, dizzy gurgle and swirl. I 
could anticipate the vertigo of the descent and my 
own sensations in the embrace of death. There 
would be a momentary, convulsive effort to hold back, 
a gasping for breath, a brief pain as of one choking, 
a sudden giddiness fading swiftly into unconscious- 
ness, and then absolute peace. I wished that the or- 
deal were not so long delayed. I wished that the 
hurricane might blow anew, and that the billows 
would rise in their utmost rage and overwhelm us at 
once. For the suspense was as the pangs of many 
deaths. 

But no fresh hurricane came, only, after a great 


96 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


while, there was a loud splash by my berth side, fol- 
lowed by a sharp cry that made me start in alarm, 
though why I should be alarmed, who* had nothing 
worse to fear, nor better to hope, than death, is a 
question I cannot answer. Start, however, I did, 
with a frightened look into the blackness of darkness 
about me, to see what uncanny thing this might be 
that was disturbing my parting hour. 

I could, of course, see nothing, but presently I un- 
derstood, from the splashing and squealing, that the 
rats were prowling around, and were greatly disgusted 
at finding the cabin floor under water. As for me, 
I was glad of their company. 

“If the creatures could only speak to me,” I said 
to myself; “ if we could only exchange sympathies, 
and converse together on our fate, there would be 
some satisfaction even yet.” 

And as I lay listening to their interchange of sen- 
timents, mostly, as I guessed, expressive of disap- 
pointment, I thought of the marvellous instinct, 
amounting almost to intuition, which is attributed 
to rats in regard to sinking ships. An old story oc- 
curred to me. A vessel had foundered in mid-ocean, 
the crew took to the boats, even like the crew of the 
Bird of Paradise , and as the last man was stepping 
off, a company of rats appeared, and, without cere- 
mony or hesitation, leaped into the boats with the 
men. The ship was going down, and they knew it. 
My companions were doubtless endowed with this 
instinct also; what if the brig were not sinking after 
all? It seems an absurd thing to take any comfort 
from the actions of rats, and yet a wild hope that I 
might still be saved thrilled through my heart. One 
hope begets another. I went on to think that since 
the brig was settling down so very slowly, she might 
keep afloat till we should be discovered. A drown- 
ing man clutches at straws, and hope, as the poet 
says, springs eternal in the human breast; springs, 
too, with no regard to time or circumstance. Here 
was I, in the direst extremity in which man could be 


I abandon hope. 97 

placed, busy with schemes of rescue and happi- 
ness. 

The thought that I might be saved kept with me 
through the long hours of darkness, and when the 
morning light returned, and found me in no worse 
plight than I had been in at sunset on the previous 
evening, my hope strengthened to an absolute belief 
in my ultimate escape. My physical strength in- 
creased with my mental, and when the sun was fully 
up — the sun I had not expected to see again — I leaped 
from my bed to welcome it, almost forgetting my 
fever. Had I Shakespeare’s gift of expression ten 
times over, I am sure I could not half tell how sweet, 
how transcendently glorious it was, after that night 
in the tomb, to feel the warmth and mystic potency 
of the returning light. 

In the first great burst of joy, I wondered why I 
should ever have been depressed, so inexplicable do 
despair and dismal thoughts become to us in moments 
of supreme exaltation. My heart welled into my eyes 
in thankfulness as I drank in the full, deep draught 
of happiness; and yet I was so full of wonder, that, 
more than once, I doubted whether the whole thing 
were not a vision, a trick of the imagination. It was 
as if Plato’s fantastic dream were realized, and, after 
ages of immurement in nether darkness, a man were 
brought forth to behold the rising sun for the first 
time. Yet the illustration is incomplete, for, while 
Plato’s supposititious character would have been 
overwhelmed with awe, I was filled with gladness. 
The creature of Plato’s dream would have veiled his 
face in terror before the sun ’s majesty ; I thrust mine 
forward in eager and rapturous welcome. I had 
risen from the dead ; here was the joyous exuberance 
of life again, with all its hopes and teeming possibil- 
ities. It was worth while being at the point of death 
to learn how sweet it is to live. 

I saw the east kindling with a divine illumination 
that was as the light of a resurrection morn. Higher 
and higher the blaze of glory rose, till the flood of 
7 


0 $ 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


life had mounted to the zenith, spread with rosy au- 
roral promise, and possessed the entire heavens. 
Death had vanished. The world was born anew, 
fresh, lusty, jubilant as on that primal morning when 
the Omnipotent said, “Let there be light.” When 
the great orb showed the edge of its flaming disc, a 
golden shaft shot straight across the ocean to the 
derelict brig. It came like a kiss of salutation, a 
benediction, a promise of life. Then, as the sun rose 
slowly, monarch of the world, and the waves of light, 
inexpressibly beautiful and holy, came rolling towards 
me, I was ready to cry out in worship. O God, how 
sweet is life after death, paradise after the pit! 
There are those, miserable fireside philosophers, who, 
from the depths of easy-chairs, ask, with sapient wis- 
dom, whether life is worth living? Put them in 
danger of losing it, and I dare say they will find an 
answer to their silly question. 

With my new-found strength, I tried the screws 
which had baffled me in the night. Joy succeeded 
joy; they yielded, and the brass rim opened, thus 
giving me more space. Then I thrust out my head 
well up to my shoulders, and drew a long breath, 
which was as meat to the starving and drink to the 
parched. Again and again I sucked in the delicious 
cordial, feeling its grateful stimulating effects in the 
uttermost atom of my frame. When I had inhaled 
till I was dizzy, I leaned forward as far as I could, 
and feasted my eyes on the glittering water, now 
rolling lazily in big, smooth billows that rocked the 
brig as gently as a mother rocks the cradle of her first- 
born. 

I know not whether it was the peculiarity of my 
disease, or whether the new-born hope gave such 
fresh vitality to my system as enabled it to throw the 
fever off, or whether it was owing to an extra dose 
of quinine I had taken from a box of pills which Mr. 
W atson had left me, but, from that time, I began to 
improve rapidly. True, after the first delirium of 
joy had passed, there came a short period of depres- 


1 ABANDON hope. 00 

sion and relapse, but I strove to keep up my courage, 
and the feeling of convalescence soon returned. 

My improvement may be judged from the fact that, 
ere long, I began to think there are worse things in 
the world than a morsel of food. I got out of my 
berth, and, after some rummaging on hands and 
knees, I discovered a box of biscuits, for, happily, I 
had ample provisions on board, the crew, at their de- 
parture, having been more afraid of drowning than 
of starving. My fare was rather dry, and not such 
as might be supposed to suit the taste of a sick per- 
son ; but I gnawed with so much relish, that, when 
the first biscuit was done, I took up another, which 
was likewise finished. Then I took a drink of water, 
laved my neck and head, and felt vastly revived. So 
wondrously was I restored, indeed, that it occurred 
to me to go on deck and take my reckonings, and see 
how the crippled brig looked, and perhaps hoist a sig- 
nal of distress; but, that proving an enterprise still 
beyond my strength, I had another mouthful of fresh 
air, and returned to bed. And lying there, I tried 
to judge of the ship’s condition by her movements. 
But these guided me to no conclusion, save what I 
might have arrived at without taking them into ac- 
count, namely, that, since she had floated through the 
storm, she might continue to float in the calm, and 
that I might still be saved; so my courage remained 
good. 

That day I passed in a sort of dream, suffering 
somewhat from thirst, which I frequently slaked, but 
otherwise almost free from pain. My head, which 
had troubled me sorely in the earlier stages of the dis- 
ease, was now clear, albeit occasionally rather light. 
I continued to enjoy the boon of fresh air, having by 
this time opened every port I could get at, and it 
proved a very effective medicine. 

When the sun again fell, I was lonely, but un- 
troubled by the multitude of horrors which had 
weighed upon me all the previous night. Nor on 
this second night was I doomed to darkness. Dur- 


too 


IN THE HAY OF BATTLE. 


ing my peregrinations in the day, I had found an oil 
lamp, which, after careful trimming and lighting, I 
swung from a rope in the centre of the cabin. On 
the approach of night I lighted it ; then lay and waited 
for the rats, feeling certain they would repeat their 
visit. Nor was I disappointed. After a while I 
heard a suppressed squeak, then a furtive scraping, 
and half a minute later a whiskered gentleman peered 
cautiously in to see how matters might stand. Be- 
ing in a fantastic humour, I called on him to enter, 
which, of course, had tine effect of sending him scam- 
pering into the darkness. But presently he came 
back, bringing a companion with him to keep up his 
heart, and the two standing just outside the door, 
cocked their heads very wisely and surveyed the apart- 
ment. Then they retired as if for consultation, then 
came advancing boldly into the centre of the floor, 
but catching sight of .me they flew off in a panic. 
When they returned after the space of some minutes, 
they were accompanied by numerous friends, and 
the entire body reconnoitred, now advancing, now 
retiring, and all the time keeping up a running com- 
mentary of squeaks. I threw a shower of crumbled 
biscuit (with which I had provided, myself) on the 
floor, and they made off again; but plucking up 
heart, presently they came back, and with many cau- 
tious looks and squeaking whispers began tentatively 
to nibble. The second shower disturbed them less 
than the first, the third less than the second, and the 
fourth hardly at all. By the time the sixth fell, they 
were quite at home and feasting royally. I should 
say the whole company did not number more than a 
score, though to judge by the chatter there might 
have been several hundreds. The banquet lasted for 
fully half an hour, and I am sure the host derived as 
much pleasure from it as the guests. Having finished 
the feast they slipped quietl} r awa} r , judging it good 
manners evidently to take their departure with as 
little fuss as possible. 

Next night they returned with increased confidence 


I ABANDON HOPE. 


101 


and good will, and indeed, every night so long as we 
remained on the brig, they came to cheer my soli- 
tude, and eat their supper. We gradually got so 
familiar that towards the close of our strange com- 
panionship, they evinced no timidity whatever in my 
presence, but ate as if I were a proved friend and 
benefactor, hardly even getting out of my way when 
1 moved about the cabin. Had we continued long 
enough together, I am confident I could not only have 
turned them into staunch comrades, but taught them 
to romp, to gambol, and perform tricks. For a rat 
has affections and intelligence. As it was, they 
knew my evening whistle, and would come with 
pretty looks of expectation to have their meals, and 
depart with becks and squeaks of gratitude. I have 
been with many men who were far less companion- 
able. 

Meanwhile, the Bird of Paradise continued 
miraculously to float. Many days passed ere I could 
make a survey, and ascertain the actual damage she 
had sustained, or what stress of weather she might 
still be able to stand ; but after the first day it became 
manifest that if the crew had not been cowardly in 
leaving her, they had at least been precipitate. But 
as I grew accustomed to the loneliness (my hope 
keeping strong), I was not sorry they had gone; 
indeed, as time ran, and I was still safe, my fear was 
that they might spy the brig and return. The wish 
that I might never look on one of them again, Mr. 
Watson only excepted (and he, I knew, must have 
perished), grew with my growing strength, and my 
strength increased apace. For some time the fever 
troubled me in the evening, but hope and a good 
constitution, with some grains of quinine per day, 
gradually overcame it, and within a week I was able 
to make my way, with comparative ease, about the 
lower part of the ship. 

It might be on the fifth or sixth day from the time 
I was deserted that I managed to crawl up the com- 
panion-way, and surely never shall I forget the 


102 


IN THE HAY OF BATTLE. 


strange ecstatic feeling that came over me on step- 
ping again into the sunlight and the open air. It 
was lonely and desolate enough, Heaven knows, to 
find one’s self the only soul on board a derelict ship 
in the midst of the ocean, but even with desolation it 
was returning life, and I was glad beyond expres- 
sion. I stood for a while at the head of the stair in- 
haling the balm ; then I turned my attention to the 
brig. 

She was as ragged and battered as any craft that 
ever encountered and survived a hurricane in the 
tropics. The jibboom was gone, the broken foremast 
hung over the side entangled in a mass of shrouds 
and rigging that it had pulled down, the unfurled 
sails were hanging in ribbons, showing that the blast 
had caught us unexpectedly, and found us unpre- 
pared, and the deck was strewn with wreckage. I 
could not discover, however, that the hull had suf- 
fered very seriously. There were sprung planks and 
boards, indeed the bulwarks were smashed, and the 
after-deck was a mass of splinters, but as the injuries 
were mostly above the water-line, they might not 
mean much. The most serious damage was to the 
steering gear, which was completely wrecked. The 
brig lay heavily to one side like a vessel running 
close hauled, and she was going so slowl} T that there 
was scarce a ripple at her cutwater. My examination 
cheered me; so long as the weather held fair, I was 
safe. 

The survey finished, I sat down on the booby hatch 
to take the air. The ocean was asleep, there was not 
a sound in all the wide solitude, nor, so far as 1 could 
see, any living thing to break the eternal silence. 
The brig was all alone, “a speck on sky-sliut seas,” 
and a ver} r insignificant speck too, when you come to 
think of it. I wonder if any man ever before sailed 
those seas in a plight like mine, or was so utterly 
alone, since Robinson Crusoe built himself a hut on 
his island? 

I suppose it is evidence of the inherent cupidity of 


A GREAT SURPRISE. 


103 


human nature that very soon I began to think how I 
should dispose of my goods in the event of my being 
picked up, or of my drifting into some port. Would 
the profit be honourably mine, or ought it to go to 
Mr. Matheson? Yes, it should be his since he owned 
both ship and cargo. I decided to sell the goods, re- 
turn to Bombay, hand him over his money, report 
the conduct of liis men, and turn to my own affairs. 
My experience had not yet taught me the folly of 
speculation. Providence had decreed that ship and 
cargo were to be disposed in a manner that I little 
expected. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

A GREAT SURPRISE. 

Ten days must have passed thus in the utter soli- 
tude of an unfrequented ocean, days, however, not of 
depression and despair, but of tranquil joy and grat- 
itude, soothing alike to mind and body after the shocks 
and perils of the tempest. A little while before, I 
could have dreaded nothing more than this desolation ; 
it would have seemed hopeless and maddening. But 
deliver a man from the grave, and the desert will be 
to him as a fruitful and umbrageous garden. Now 
indeed, except for the loneliness, my situation was 
one that might have provoked the envy of men who 
hunt happiness, or struggle for bread in dusty noi- 
some cities. 

After the thunderstorm the air was cooler, and 
when there chanced to be a breeze, its pervasive and 
delicious balm was like a foretaste of heaven. Morn- 
ing and evening, too, the orient spread its flaming 
pictures along the sky for my sole delight, and the 
glistening iridescent sea, lately so terrible in its fury, 
caressed the ship’s side with a liquid murmur of en- 
dearment. Slowly and softly the brig heaved on the 
long foamless swell, without so much as a suggestion 
of the reeling agonies she had just passed through. 


104 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


On deck, I had my improvised awning of sails and 
tangled rigging, under which I dozed and dreamed 
when I was not cooking or eating, or watching the 
flying-fish. Company would have been grateful, but 
I had got back my life, and that was more than com- 
pany. Moreover, I lacked nothing, for, as already 
stated, the ship’s stores were practically untouched, 
so sudden had been the crew’s departure. With 
plenty of meat and drink in a world where so many 
people have to go on short commons, one should not 
complain ; and as for society, if it was wanting, there 
was none to thwart my humours or break my medi- 
tations. 

A chief part of my pleasure was in the books left 
by Mr. Watson. “Rob Roy” was there, and truly 
it would have seemed a ridiculous thing, could any 
one have seen a miserable ocean waif holding his 
sides at the humour of Bailie Nicol Jarvie. I fear 
the gallant Rob himself was not a pattern of moral- 
ity, but his daring Highland spirit Was captivating ; 
and if he lifted cattle when he should have been say- 
ing his prayers, he did well when his back was to the 
wall. Others also of Sir Walter’s books I read, 
among them being “ Ivanhoe,” which is surely the 
best romance ever written. “Don Quixote” I had too, 
a book which I found as rich in the golden grain of 
practical wisdom as in the elements of perpetual 
laughter; in a word, the product of a soul of sunlike 
radiance and universality, though the geniality had 
its sable tinge, as if the writer knew well what it is to 
dwell in the dusky chambers of sorrow. “ Robinson 
Crusoe” likewise fell to me then, and I dare say the 
resource and ingenuity of that immortal castaway 
gave valuable hints for the ordering of my own mode 
of life. Besides these, I had some numbers of old 
reviews, which were good reading for the wigging 
they gave unlucky authors, some of whom have since, 
however, unaccountably achieved fame. I had also 
a publication called “ The Posthumous Papers of the 
Pickwick Club,” which, I understand, is more fa- 


A GREAT SURPRISE. 


105 


miliar to the present generation than its Bible. My 
blessings on the memory of Boz for the fun and heart 
he gave me in that dismal time. If ever a more 
amusing person than Mr. Pickwick came from a cre- 
ator’s brain it was the Knight of La Mancha alone, 
or perhaps Jack Falstaff ; while Sancho Panza and 
Sam Weller ought to march down the generations 
hand in hand, as the most diverting henchmen who 
ever sinned their souls from loyalty to fantastic mas- 
ters. There was likewise an almanac, which I thought 
might be 'available for its weather forecasts ; but 
whether it had been written for some other quarter 
of the globe, or was merely a humourous effort, its 
predictions never had the least bearing on the weather 
in the Indian Ocean. 

I had yet another resource, still more fruitful of 
enjoyment. When the books palled, forth would 
come Duncan’s silver-mounted pipes from the green 
bag (which was guarded as if it were gold), and I 
would blow myself into a species of intoxication. 
Now it was an old air my mother or my nurse had 
crooned to me in the dim far-off dawn of memory; 
then, being a little sentimental, a wail of lament, 
maybe Rob Roy’s pathetic “ Ha til mi tulidh” (I re- 
turn no more) ; again a pibroch opening with the 
weird dirge-like measure of a coronach, but every 
moment quickening in time, till the excitement and 
ecstasy of it carried me clean out of myself, and away 
from all thought of forsaken seas and derelict ships. 
By a natural transition, this would lead to a quick- 
step, a reel, strathspey, or Highland fling. * 

All the while, I was back in the Highlands, in the 
glee of a harvest home, or a gathering on the green of 
a summer’s evening, cheering and urging the dancers, 
whose whirling tails and gleaming knees showed the 
energy of the response. I could hear the resounding 
“hoochs,” and sharp thumb-cracking of the men. as 
well as the panting, joyful, half -frightened soughs 
of the lasses, as they were swung off their feet in the 
fury of the fun. Or again, it might be a plumed 


106 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


and kilted company marching with springy step to 
the strains of “The Highland Laddie,” or “The 
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu,” or “The Campbells are 
Coming,” or “Blue Bonnets over the Border.” 

And then, at the impulse of uncontrollable exalta- 
tion, up I- would get to strut about the deck with as 
proud a stomach as if I were playing clansmen into 
the heart of their enemies. Nor was strutting always 
enough. For, oblivious of physical weakness, I often 
caught myself skipping about in the maze&of a coun- 
try dance, or leaping in the Highland fling, or pranc- 
ing in a bout of the sword dance, the fingers uncon- 
sciously going on the chanter. It would be hard to 
tell how many times I went over “Reel Thulachan,” 
and “The Reel of Tulloch,” and “Ghillie Challum,” 
and “The High-Road to Linton,” and “The Auld 
Wife Ayont the Fire,” and “ Dainty Davie,” and “ The 
Marquis of Huntly’s Farewell,” and “Sleepy Mag- 
gie,” and such-like tunes, trying, not always success- 
fully, to keep time between the dancer and the piper. 
The exercise usually continued till I had to give up 
for want of breath, and did more good than all the 
physic doctors could have poured into me. And in- 
deed, to this day nothing heartens me like the drone 
of the pipes bumming in my ear, though I fear this 
will be reckoned a rude taste by the refined young 
gentlemen, who know so much about pianos, things of 
mystery to me. Yet old Duncan often declared I had 
notions of music, and could make the pipes utter 
emotion and sentiment in a way that sometimes 
stirred him, though he owned I was no hand at the 
warblers.* But since there was none on the brig to 
criticize, m} r deficiencies did not in the least spoil the 
pleasure in my own melody. There was but one 
drawback to the performances, that my companions 

* The true piper will stake his life on his warblers or grace 
notes ; anybody can play a common tune by sticking simply 
to the air, but a man must be a born piper to introduce 
variations with skill. It is in the management of these that 
art lies.. 


A GREAT SURPRISE. 


107 


fairly abhorred them. No sooner would they hear 
me screwing up the drones for a bit of piping, than 
they rushed off squealing to hide in the darkest re- 
cesses of the ship. Since then, I have learned that 
nothing jars on the sensitive ear of a rat so much as 
the music of the bagpipes ; he will go through fire 
and water to escape it. That *is why, in the High- 
lands, when rats get troublesome, it is a common 
practice to call in the aid of a piper in driving them 
off. The device never fails. 

The Bird of Paradise lay dead as a log without 
guidance from helm or impulse from sail, but she 
kept afloat, and that was a reason for thankfulness. 
As there was no compass, it was impossible to 
judge the course save Vaguely by the stars, and as the 
heavenly bodies had never been much among the ob- 
jects of my contemplation, my reckoning was wild 
enough. But my conclusion was that we were mak- 
ing, or more correctly drifting W.N.W., for what 
wind or current there was seemed to be in that direc- 
tion, and that barring accident or the good fortune of 
being picked up, I should sooner or later touch some- 
where in the neighbourhood of the Persian Gulf. This 
pleased me little, for I knew the entire region to be 
infested by bands of pirates, who, should they discover 
us, would make short work of both me and the brig. 
But being powerless to alter the course, I had to drift 
on, trusting in Providence for safety. 

One evening there sprang up a breeze in our lar- 
board quarter, which for the first time since I had 
been left alone, pushed the Bird of Paradise to 
something of a pace. 

“I’ll take it as a good omen,” I said to myself. “ If 
she keeps at that I shall soon arrive — somewhere.” 

I sat on deck that night longer than usual, partly 
to keep a sharp look-out, partly to enjoy the bracing 
breeze. It could not be called a clear night, but there 
was a strange light on the sea, half aerial, half phos- 
phorescent, that would have made a sail visible at a 
considerable distance — had one chanced to come that 


108 IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 

wa3~ — which it did not. About eleven o’clock I went 
below, and, having fed my family of rats — a thing 1 
did as regularly as I said my prayers — turned into 
bed. I lay long awake, however, with a premoni- 
tion that something was going to happen. It was not 
by any means a painful feeling, rather a dim vague 
intuition that some , change was impending, and 
would come speedily. However, I fell asleep after 
a time without disturbance of any sort. 

The sun was already level with my peep-hole win- 
dows when I awoke. After dressing leisurely, I went 
on deck to go through the usual morning exercise of 
sweeping the ocean for a sail. At first I could dis- 
cover nothing, and concluded I was still alone; but 
presently, taking a second look. I descried the tiniest 
black speck — as it might be a floating hat — between 
me and the horizon. My heart gave a great leap. 

“ Now, what the deuce is that?” I found myself 
saying with quickened breath. “ It doesn’t look like 
a sail — no, it cannot be a sail. If I were anywhere in 
the track of civilization, J should say it is a buoy ; 
but a buoy where ships never appear to come, would 
be an impossible piece of absurdity. ” 

I gazed with all my might, rubbing my eyes when 
they were dazzled and smarting, and going at it again 
like one whose hope of salvation depends upon his ac- 
curacy of vision. My curiosity increased without 
bringing me clearer knowledge. 

“Perhaps it’s some monster fish taking the sun,” 
I said aloud as if I had listening companions. But 
no fish that I had ever heard of was fond of being 
broiled alive. It did not move nor show sign of life. 
“ Flotsam — jetsam — ligan ” I went over the pos- 
sibilities. “ Pieces of wreckage, goods sunk by 
pirates, to be found again at convenience.” Neither 
theory was satisfactory, and my anxiety became fever- 
ish. “It’s the old man of the sea,” I thought, frivo- 
lousl3 T ty‘or a mermaid — no, it is too black for a 
mermaid, the creatures are fair.” 

But I was too painfully concerned to give way to a 


A GREAT SURPRISE. 


109 


whimsical spirit ; so in right earnest I conjectured and 
stared and stared and conjectured, propounding the- 
ories to myself and immediately rejecting them, rub- 
bing my eyes when they saw double, taking a turn 
about the ship to ruminate, making a childish com- 
pact with myself not to look again for fifteen minutes, 
and yielding in fifteen seconds to the spell of the black 
speck. I gazed till I saw double, treble, quadruple, till 
my head was swimming and a thousand objects were 
leaping and whirling fantastically on the light-grey 
horizon; then thinking it prudent to stop gazing for. 
a little, I went below for breakfast. 

It was a hasty, perfunctory meal that morning; for 
in less than five minutes I was on deck again palpi- 
tating with excitement. The black speck was still on 
the glittering plain, distinct, motionless, mysterious 
as ever. The gentlest breeze blew in my larboard 
quarter, and in my eagerness I ran to the helm, for- 
getting that it was a splintered wreck as potent for its 
purpose as the tail of a moulting hen. Then, finding 
it was to be a game of watching, I hurriedly rigged 
a hammock out of the tangled cordage and sails, and 
climbed into it, intent on discovery. Hours passed 
without bringing enlightenment. The burning sun 
beat down on a shimmering brazen sea, whose metal- 
lic sheen made me giddy and nearly blind. The 
breeze died away, and the brig lay idle; in all the 
vast silence there was not a sound save the thumping 
of my own heart, nor a visible object save that ag- 
gravating black speck. 

By-and-by I went below, with a misty idea of lun- 
cheon, immediately rushing back on deck more eager 
than ever. Hardly had I swung myself into my 
place when I leapt down again, calling out as if the 
immense vacancy were peopled, that beyond doubt 
the thing moved, and was growing bigger. Then 
after awhile I saw something like the flutter of a flag ; 
and I understood the black speck was a boat with a 
man in it. And he saw the brig. 

“Ye-hoo!” I cried with a leap of joy. “Deliver- 


110 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


ance at last !” And I ran about the deck like one 
possessed, shouting, “ Deliverance ! — deliverance !” 
and could have wept for joy. 

But all at once a chill struck me to the marrow and 
put an end to my rapture. What if this were some 
of the crew returning? For one brief moment my 
mind was blank with fright, but the next I had taken 
my resolution. Swift as ever man prepared for an 
enemy, I got two pistols and a musket, loading them 
and laying them beside me ready for use. Then I 
-went to Mr. Watson’s strong box, smashing the lid 
with an iron bar, and taking thence the longest sword 
I could find. That being of a good weight and suffi- 
ciently keen, I selected a Turkish dagger and a long 
sailor’s knife, with two more revolvers and some am- 
munition. Then I arranged my armoury, and waited 
for the boat. It was now close enough to enable me 
to discern that there was but one man in it, a discov- 
ery that gave me confidence. With such an arsenal 
and the natural advantage of my position, the deuce 
was in it if I couldn’t take care of myself. 

The man was rowing hard, and the boat came 
quickly over the sleeping water. When he was with- 
in hailing distance, I stepped to the bulwarks and 
leaned over. In the same moment, resting on his 
oars, he turned to look at me. My first care was to 
find out whether or not he was one of the crew, but 
a very brief examination sufficed to show he was not. 
He began to pull again, and I, thinking my warlike 
preparations slightly overdone, hastily put my weap- 
ons out of sight, reserving just a brace of pistols and 
a dagger to meet emergencies. 

My visitor did not come close alongside, but held 
off a little distance, as if doubting the reception he 
should receive. He was an Arab, and showed signs 
of distress. 

“Row up,” I called in English, never expecting 
him to understand that language. 

“God is merciful,” he responded joyfully in the 
same tongue ; and with two or three vigorous strokes, 


A GREAT SURPRISE. 


Ill 


he was alongside. Then for a minute or so we si- 
lently took stock of each other. I was not enam- 
oured of his looks, and perhaps he was just as little 
in love with mine. 

“You seem rather in a bad way,” I remarked, 
speaking first. 

“ Allah is a mighty scourger !” he said, with a shrug 
of his shoulders. 

“So He is,” I replied. “How do you come to be 
alone and in such a plight?” 

At this he worked himself into a sudden rage, ges- 
ticulating wildly, and talking brokenly of villains and 
robbery and outrage. His story was that he had 
been in command of a ship laden with a valuable 
cargo, that the pirates had plundered him, killing his 
crew, and that it was only by the greatest miracle he 
had escaped with his life. On my inquiring how he 
happened to know English, he replied fawningly that 
he had learned my beautiful tonuge in Egypt and in 
Africa. 

“An Arab slave-dealer,” I concluded at once. 

But his misery was plainly very great, and I could 
not do less than take him on board. 

“Praise be to Allah for His mercies!” he ex- 
claimed, clutching at the rope’s-end I let down to 
him. 

He climbed with the agility of a cat, pouring out 
thanks and blessings as he ascended. 

“Bi takdir an tatakallam bil Arabi,” he said with 
questioning eyes when he reached the deck. “ La, 
la!” he exclaimed as I stared in uncomprehending 
wonder. “You do not speak the tongue of the 
Prophet. Inglizi, Inglizi (English), it is the speech 
of brave men, yea, of heroes and conquerors. Are 
they not my brethren? Do I not love them *as my 
own soul?” and, profuse of honeyed words, he insisted 
on embracing me in the most fraternal manner known 
to his exuberant race. He laid his forehead against 
mine and threw his arm over my shoulder, clasping 
my side with the other, and laying his chin first on 


112 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


my left breast, then on my right, striking my palm 
with his, and giving other novel and embarrassing 
tokens of esteem and friendship, all the while invok- 
ing the choicest blessings of Heaven upon my head. 
Then he kneeled with his face towards Mecca and re- 
peated the Hizb-el-Bahr, or prayer for safety on the 
ocean wave. His devotions over, we raised his boat, 
which was a crazy kind of coracle. 


CHAPTER IX. 

MY VISITOR TAKES STOCK. 

It will be thought that our common straits would 
have drawn us into a bond of sympathy. Here we 
were, a pair of forlorn waifs, met on the high seas, 
each with the marks of dire misfortune behind and 
ahead, such a prospect as might have made us trem- 
ble and cling to each other for support. But on one 
side, at least, there was not that fellow-feeling which, 
according to the poet, makes us wondrous kind. On 
the contrary, there was grim suspicion, that soon 
came very near to aversion. Abram ben Aden might 
be an injured saint, but his appearance rather sug- 
gested a villain down at heel. So I judged it best to 
keep my distance and let him understand that famil- 
iarity on the part of strangers was not among the 
things I liked. My attempts to give him that im- 
pression, however, were not strikingly successful. 

He was mightity surprised to find me alone, and 
could not express his astonishment when he saw how 
the brig was laden. 

“ Now here’s a wonder beyond anything man ever 
dreanfed of!” he exclaimed, with a covetous gleam 
on his lean, swarthy face. “ You alone master of such 
riches as this ! By the holy Alborak, there must be a 
tale here surpassing in marvel any told by Schehere- 
zade.” 

But I was not to be taken in the snare of even so 


MY VISITOR TAKES STOCK. 


113 


artful a fowler as the Arab seemed to be. Pretend- 
ing to make light of his wonder and ignoring his deft 
interrogatory, I laid my hand on the hilt of my revol- 
ver with a wink of significance, remarking that a 
man might get very rich if he had only the heart to 
dare. He looked at me for a moment with curiously 
questioning eyes, which began to glow in their dark 
depths. 

“ ’Tis the best thing I ever saw!” he said mean- 
ingly. “Hid you do it alone and by magic?” 

“ Alone and by magic !” I repeated with a swag- 
ger. “ And why not?” 

“You are a hero!” he exclaimed, overcome with 
admiration. “ Blessed be the day that I am permitted 
to gaze on you ! To take a ship is a great thing. It 
is a deed of valour worthy of the song of poets. 
Twenty men, to whom blood was a jo} T , have failed 
in it, and you have succeeded alone. Yet your face 
is as smooth as a woman’s. War and blood have 
not set their stamp upon it. When you are older, 
your name will be the terror of the sea. I tell you, 
I have come upon a great marvel. And you have 
all this” — with a comprehensive wave of the hand — 
“ as the reward of your courage — enough to build a 
palace and buy slaves and have the pleasures of a 
sultan. How did you do it?” 

“ The fool opens the windows of his mind to the 
passer-by,” I returned, taking a turn about the deck, 
“ but the wise man shuts them.” 

“ By my faith, you are as prudent as yon are brave,” 
he remarked laughingly, though I could see my re- 
ply had cut him. “ A secret is in my custody if I 
keep it ; but if I blab it, ’tis I that am prisoner. A 
wise proverb, and yet there is another that li^s wis- 
dom also. Conceal your secret only from such as are 
known to be indiscreet, but impart it to him who has 
the prudence to keep it.” 

“We talk of proverbs and forget the duties of hos- 
pitality,” I said. “You must be in need of rest and 
refreshment.” 


114 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


“Ju’an atshan (holy prophet), how my inwards 
crave for food and drink!” he replied warmly. 
“ These many days and nights have I endured sun 
and moon without a morsel of bread to stay my 
stomach, or a drop of water to cool my burning 
tongue.” 

“Then,” I returned, “you suffer from three things 
for which talk is no cure — hunger, thirst, and weari- 
ness. Let us see what refection may be got out of 
the ship’s larder.” 

“May Allah grant you lifelong bounty and the 
Prophet receive you in the home of the faithful !” he 
answered, in a burst of fervent piety. “ The brave 
are ever generous,” he added, following me down the 
companion ladder, convinced that I was the king of 
buccaneers. 

He ate ravenously, devouring the victuals in such 
huge mouthfuls that he would certainly have choked 
had his throat not dilated like a serpent’s under the 
pressure. He washed down the solids with copious 
draughts, first of coffee, then of rum, which he hap- 
pened to discover when the meal was half over. 

He was draining a cup of the latter, when, as if 
under the impulse of some powerful emotion, he 
jumped to his feet. 

“The Genii scourge my memory,” he exclaimed, 
bowing elaborately towards me, “ that would let me 
forget the customs of your brave people — yea, customs 
that put courage in the heart and make the bonds of 
friendship strong. A votre sante, Moosoo,” says he 
with a grin of intelligence. “ Ah, Fransawi, Fran- 
sawi, it is good, but better is Inglizi. Here is a 
health to the next throats we do cut, dammee. Send 
them to Davee Shone. That is it ; the ocean chest 
of Davee Shone. ’Tis the language of heroes whose 
words are like flames of fire, and whose swords thirst 
for blood as the sands of the desert for water. Ver- 
ily, I tell you they are a great people; they make the 
sea one big grave — no man may count the tombs.” 
He leaned forward confidentially. “ And you are the 


MY VISITOR TAKES STOCK. 


115 


greatest and mightiest of them all What numbers 

have you ”■ and he mimicked the slashing of a 

windpipe. “Nay, nay, these things be secret,” he 
added quickly, as he perceived a shade of resentment 
on my face. k< A man thinks alone of the blood he 
sheds. We know what it is to take a ship. Crews 
of laden ships will be fools, and what can the rover 
do but give them to the sharks? Ah, ’tis a great 
game. I swell at the thought of what you have done. ” 

He resumed his eating and drinking with renewed 
voracity. 

“ Paradise !” he remarked between the gulps. “ But 
for the blessedness of this feast, I could believe it all 
a vision. Men do not banquet like this in visions; 
’tis too satisfying for dreams. If I do not return 
thanks day and night, and remember your name per- 
petually, may Azrael drag me to the uttermost depths 
of the pit.” 

When he had eaten beyond the capacity of three 
ordinary Englishmen he once more turned a beaming 
countenance upon me. 

“Afdalt, sahib,” he said, smacking his lips. 
“That is the — ah, yes, I know — the grub, ’tis fit 
for the Great Sultan. Good is the kahwa,* and the 
sailor wine is as a pleasant heat at the heart. But 
we tarry. By the mother of Mohammed, we will go 
and behold thy wonders. The thought of them stirs 
me so that I cannot sit still. Mighty and great is the 
corsair — ha, ha ! He goeth out into the deep for 
riches, and lo ! his hands are full of gold. He hast- 
eth away, and leaves no more trace than the wind. 
Come, sahib, come.” 

And nothing would content him hut an instant and 
complete survey of the brig. For the purpose of ex- 
ploration it was necessary to get a light; this I gave 
to Abram ben Aden, making him precede me, so that 
he might not be tempted to take me unawares from 
behind. I have observed it is a good plan to keep a 
doubtful guest always in front of you. 

* Coffee ; also coffee-room. 


116 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


As we made our examination, coming on pile upon 
pile of stuffs from the looms of India, he was ready 
to burst, though striving to hide his covetousness by 
eulogistic speeches. 

“You are greater than. Ran Dahid, whose prizes 
made him so rich and powerful that he married a 
prince’s daughter,” he said once. “For he had his 
crew, and you are alone and but a youth. It is a 
great day for me when I am permitted to be your 
slave and learn your methods.” 

He had knowledge of such things, but he had never 
known the bravest rover to take a prize like mine 
single-handed. 

Again I made light of my achievement, treating 
the taking of a ship as if it were but the amusement 
of an idle hour. I swaggered a good deal; but I am 
sure that, in spite of all my bravado, I looked but an 
indifferent pirate. 

When we returned on deck, the wreckage which 
he had not noticed at his first coming on board, caught 
his attention. 

“You have been amid the terrors of the deep,” he 
remarked, “and yet, perchance the tempest has fa- 
voured you.” 

“ You speak like a magician !” I replied. 

“Nay, by the Prophet’s beard, you are the magi- 
cian!” he said quickly. “ You ride the storm to for- 
tune. The anger of the sea, which destroys other 
men, befriends you ; the very elements are your slaves. 
A magician indeed you are. Yet, the ship is hurt. 
The helm hangs useless as a broken bough, and there 
is nothing to guide the ship. Over yonder is the Per- 
sian Gulf,” he added significantly. 

“ I know it, ” I answered carelessly. 

“ There you may be among friends,” he ventured, 
with a look of intelligence. 

“If I am among foes the worse for them,” I re- 
sponded. 

“Verily, I believe it,” he said with unction, show- 
ing a disposition to embrace me again. 


MY VISITOR TARES STOCK. 


11 ? 


Thoroughly confirmed in the belief that I was a 
man of desperate and bloody deeds, he grew confiden- 
tial, entertaining me with an account of some of his 
own exploits as freebooter and corsair, and dwelling 
with the relish of a devil on scenes of cruelty and 
death. 

“ Then you lied when I took you on board?” I said 
sternly, interrupting him in the midst of his narra- 
tive. Even a sea-robber may have his code of hon- 
our, and for the present my foible was to hate lying. 

“ Could I guess your trade from that girlish face?” 
he asked, with an impudent grin. “You might be 
a missionary ship. ” 

“I am no liar,” I said severely, while conscience 
whispered, “Impostor.” 

“And I swear by the rover’s flag I will follow 
truth,” said the rascal, with a broader grin than 
ever. “ Are we not brothers, and should not our 
souls be as dials in the sunlight? Yea, and I love 
the brave Englishman. In Egypt and Africa have 
I not known him, and in the Persian Gulf have I not 
seen with joy his skill in slashing off heads? He is 
the angel-demon of the world. He will make good 
the black Ethiopian, and sell that which maketh the 
eyes red and the feet to fail, and take ships, and make 
himself rich with what others have gathered. I love 
him as a very brother!” 

Naturally I was gratified by this high and impar- 
tial testimony to the noble qualities of my country- 
men. 

A moment later, in his rummaging, Abram ben 
Aden came upon my armoury. 

“ What a warrior you are for one whose beard has 
yet to show itself !” he exclaimed with some excite- 
ment. “ Here are weapons for a whole ship’s crew. ” 
And selecting a sword, he drew it from the scabbard, 
and began to feel its edge. 

“ Not so fast,” I said, stepping up to him. “ These 
are dangerous. You talk of magic, let me warn you 
of the magic there is in these weapons.” 


118 


IN THE HAY OF BATTLE. 


“ Yea, I believe in their magic,” he answered com- 
placently, “ but is it not the magic of the arm that 
wields them? I know a blade when I see it. Choose 
you one, and we will have some sport. May I perish 
if I am not forgetting the ring and the gleam of steel. 
S ee — gee how it bends; ’tis a well-tempered blade. 
Yea, and it is light in the hand. ” And he made a 
circle of sunbeams about his head. f 

I stepped back, my hand instinctively seeking the 
hilt of my pistol, and said indifferently that I was not 
in the humour for sport. With a shade of disap- 
pointment and vexation, he thrust the sword back 
into its sheath and returned it to its place. 

We had an early supper, and went early to bed, 
my guest getting a closed-off berth to himself. I lay 
awake until I heard his stentorian snore ; then I crept 
softly upstairs, and gathering all the weapons to- 
gether, carried them down and hid them in my cabin. 
It was better that Abram ben Aden should not be 
tempted to do mischief while I slept. 


CHAPTER X. 

ALONE ONCE MORE. 

Whatever evil designs Abram ben Aden may 
have harboured in the secret chambers of his he'art, 
his bearing towards me was the essence of courtliness 
and friendship. My own brother could not have been 
more solicitous for my happiness and welfare, nor 
the most loyal of henchmen readier to do me service. 
When, from some chance expression of mine, he dis- 
covered that I was just recovering from a mortal ill- 
ness, he broke into fresh chantings of my valour and 
fortitude, and insisted on taking on himself the duties 
of cook and general personal attendant. 

“ It is not meet that heroes should do the work of 
slaves,” he said. “Leave it to me, who am but a 
common mortal. I am happy in serving so valiant 


ALONE ONCE MORE. 


119 


a master, and so generous a benefactor, one whose 
deeds should have been the inspiring theme of the 
peerless Kaali-el- Albai * himself. ” 

A blunt man like myself is at a grave disadvantage 
in dealing with a courtier. In spite of his fine words, 
I mistrusted my guest as much as ever. That he 
coveted my possessions I knew, and that he had de- 
signs on m3’ throat I more than half suspected ; yet 
I could not resist his advances nor den}’ his sallies of 
wit and humour the meed of smile. He was insist- 
ently and infectious!} 7 light-hearted; for he took life 
like a gambler’s game, in which success and failure 
should be accepted with equal equanimity. 

He had other popular and charming qualities be- 
sides. To the aplomb of the man of action, and the 
peculiar knowledge of the man of the world, he united 
the imagination of the poet and the happy audacity 
of the born romancer. His adventures had been many 
and marvellous ; and no man was ever his own Homer 
to finer effect. He had seen more with his two bodily 
eyes than I had ever dreamed of, and he invested his 
tales with a glamour that professional story-tellers 
would have envied. I do not think his recitals were 
remarkable for a strict adherence to fact, but there 
could be no question of their fascination. His talk 
was like a sojourn in the land of enchantment, amid 
flowers and fragrance, and fair women, and palaces, 
and gold, and precious stones, and heroic exploits, 
and all the raptures of the brightest realms of fancy. 
He made the “Arabian Nights” tame, and Baron 
Munchausen a commonplace falsifier. 

To give variety to the entertainment, one day he 
proposed that he should teach me Arabic. 

“ Know that Abram ben Aden, though a rover, is 
likewise a master of literature,” he said, with a su- 
perb flourish of his arms, “ The poets are his espe- 
cial delight. They are greater than the magicians ; 
they are as a flame in the soul which illuminates the 
universe. But how is the adventurer, the corsair, to 
* The famous Arabian poet and favourite of Mohammed. 


120 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


carry the poets with him? Why, here” — tapping his 
forehead — “here is the chamber in which the poets 
have their abode ! And here” — producing a greasy 
volume from the folds of his dress — “ is what the 
Prophet gave the faithful as a consolation till they 
are translated to Paradise to make eternal love to the 
houris. You are an infidel, but what of that? You 
know what joy is, you also know what sorrow is. 
You have feelings, aspirations. You are a man. You 
hope to get to heaven. I will show you the way,* and 
while I show, you shall learn the Arab’s tongue. 
Come, my merry infidel! You shall yet converse as 
a brother with the children of the desert. ” And with 
an air of having the erudition of Alexandria at his 
finger-ends, he forthwith began my instruction. 

He proved a good teacher, and I was not an inat- 
tentive pupil. One rule my tutor made and adhered 
to rigidly, and that was that we should talk nothing 
but Arabic. It was a sore trial of patience at first, 
but I persevered, and in a w T eek (such was my dili- 
gence) was able to converse with tolerable fluency. 
The second week I was deep in the Koran, and able 
to follow my teacher in his recitations from the Ara- 
bian poets; the third week I was reciting myself. 
Abram ben Aden was delighted with his success. 

“By the Prophet’s mule,” he said, “I will have 
you in Paradise yet! Your speech already is as that 
of one bred in the desert. You have the Arab’s 
tongue, and next will come the Arab’s faith. We 
will drink of the milk and clarified honey of Paradise 
together, my gay one ; yea, and behold the black-eyed 
damsels reclining in the shade of pleasant gardens 
beside sweet fountains. Cheer thy heart, for one of 
them may even be thine when thou hast had time to 
repent of thy sins.” 

I said it was unspeakably good of him to take so 
deep an interest in my eternal welfare ; and he re- 
plied nothing would grieve him more than that the 
bravest rover that ever set foot on the deck of a prize 
should at last be denied the bliss of the faithful. 


ALONE ONCE MORE. 


121 


As a diversion to our studies he lured me, rather 
against my judgment, into a daily bout with the 
sword. 

“ It will keep your hand and eye true,” he said in- 
sinuatingly. “ Let the master practise on his slave. 
Methinks 3’ou take joy in the ring of the steel. All 
brave men do. By the sword of Sikandar-el-Rumi, 
there is the stuff of a fighter in you ! This ship with 
all its plunder, shows it; yet you will not let your 
blade drink your servant’s blood.” 

It was not likely I would, but there was no assur- 
ance that my servant would exercise a like restraint 
over his blade. Indeed, on second thoughts, his 
proposition seemed to me a ruse to try my mettle and 
wheedle me into an overweening conceit with myself 
that would give him his opportunity. Happily I 
was not entirely ignorant in the use of the sword, for 
my graver studies had been interrupted, perhaps too 
often, by prolonged fencing bouts. But then I was 
far from thinking myself an expert ; so that it was 
no light matter to stand up before a man of unknown 
skill and suspicious motive, whose greatest delight it 
might be to spit me at the very first go off. Never- 
theless, I had given my consent, and it would have 
been both folly and cowardice to go back. So, put- 
ting on my stoutest front, I stood up, though the 
naked, wicked flash of our weapons in the sun caused 
me a nasty sensation. It was but momentary, how- 
ever, for the demand on every faculty of mind and 
body was too keen to leave me time for fear. 

I soon discovered that Abram ben Aden was a skil- 
ful swordsman, with a sure and rapid eye, great 
length and suppleness of arm, a wrist like a swivel, 
and the confidence which comes of many triumphs. 
My first efforts were very cautious, as you may sup- 
pose, no hint being lost on me, but we were not long 
at it when I rung him blow for blow, and I ended the 
early encounters in a glow of satisfaction. We were 
both nimble as goats, and I believe a spectator would 
have said the fencing was lively. For an hour each 


122 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


day we exercised thus, and my companion’s good hu- 
mour continued unabated. 

We lived this life for a month. During all that 
time the weather was glorious, and we enjoyed it un- 
disturbed. The brig floated lazily along, whatever 
wind there was being mostly steady in the same quar- 
ter. Not a sail nor a soul did we see, and I had but 
the haziest notion of our whereabouts. If Abram 
ben Aden was better informed, he kept his knowledge 
sedulously to himself. 

He seemed, indeed, too intent on providing enter- 
tainment to give a thought either to our course or our 
destination. W e told tales, and sang songs, and ate 
and drank, and fenced, and studied, and, all alone on 
a derelict water-logged ship, led the most delectable 
existence imaginable. My companion fairly adored 
me. He anticipated my wishes, spoke unceasingly of 
the unequalled deeds I had done, and more than once 
showed a strong disposition to fall down and worship 
me. 

“I have been a rover,” he would declare, with the 
unction of a man saying his prayers, “ but may Azrael 
seize me this moment if I speak not the truth in say- 
ing that never have my eyes seen a man who matches 
you in bravery and good fortune. And you are but 
a youth,” he would add in the most engaging tone. 

This continued till I began to fancy I had enchanted 
the man, that he was verily my slave, and I had only 
to exercise my magical power to bend him to my will 
as completely as the most docile and obedient genie 
in any Arabian tale of wonder that was bent to the 
will of a happy prince. I dare say I plumed myself 
on my ascendency, I dare say I put on airs, and I 
have no doubt whatever that Abram ben Aden, most 
adroit of courtiers, most subtle of flatterers, saw 
through me, and took my measure with perfect ac- 
curacy. 

One evening, in our fencifig exercise, I thought he 
pressed harder upon me than ever before, and that 
his blade rang with unaccustomed sharpness. But 


ALONE ONCE MORE. 


123 


the quickened movements only made my blood run 
the faster, for, by this time, I was both confident and 
dexterous. We went at it as much in earnest, per- 
haps, as any two men who ever crossed blades for 
amusement, and I remember the thrill caused by the 
thought, “ What if he is trying to kill me?” My op- 
ponent was the first to cry halt ; he was flushed and 
out of breath, and I fancied that under his everlast- 
ing smile there was a feeling of vexation. 

“ By the right hand of the Prophet, you are a gal- 
lant swordsman!” he cried, recovering his breath. 
“ Your eye is the sun and your stroke a flash of light- 
ning. I would not fight you for ten shiploads of gold. 
The man who fights you puts his life on your sword- 
point. As a jest, you have taken my wind away, 
and, by the breath of the desert, 1 am hot. Come, 
thou champion brandisher of steel, and let us refresh 
ourselves. A cup of that sailor wine would give me 
back my strength.” 

Ordinarily, we put away our weapons as soon as 
our exercise was done ; but this evening we took them 
with us, and they lay across our knees as we ate and 
drank. 

“Are we enemies?” cried Abram ben Aden, laugh- 
ing immoderately at the idea of two peaceable and 
friendly men sitting down to meat armed as if for 
battle ; yet, somehow, we did not lay the swords aside, 
and when we went to bed we still had them. 

I slept soundly that night, and was late in awaken- 
ing next morning. On reaching the cabin, I found 
that Abram ben Aden had not yet risen, and, think- 
ing to surprise him, I crept to his door. It stood 
ajar, showing an empty berth made up as it had been 
left the day before. I whistled softly, then going 
quickly on deck, looked for his boat. But it, too, 
was gone ! 


124 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


CHAPTER XI. 

SETTLING ACCOUNTS. 

Here was an unexpected turn of the wheel of for- 
tune — a new mystery to rack the mind, or give an 
added relish to life, just as you might chance to look 
at it. I was not at all sorry to find my companion 
gone, nor, in truth, greatly surprised ; but his depart- 
ure might portend more than it was pleasant to spec- 
ulate on. 

His character was pledge enough that he had not 
gone away from any pious motive, nor to do good by 
stealth. Too much of a knave to be a fool, a consum- 
mate rascal in the widest acceptation of that compre- 
hensive word, despising moral scruples, insensible to 
gratitude, insatiably avaricious, bold in planning and 
ruthless in executing, I felt he must be bent on some 
scheme that boded neither me nor the brig any good. 
I recollected with peculiar and not very agreeable 
sensations, how he had pressed me in our bout on the 
evening before, and how, on finding himself fairly 
matched, his chagrin had broken through his well- 
trained smiles and courtier-like air of compliment. 
To be deprived of his company was a cause for rejoic- 
ing, for his absence relieved me of a constant source 
of suspicion and danger. But better a present evil 
than a lurking enemy ; with your eye on the foe, you 
can defend yourself ; but when he may spring upon 
you like a tiger in the jungle, at any moment, from 
any quarter, back, front, side, or oblique angle, the 
constant apprehension is apt to fret the nerves. And 
indeed the legions of black thoughts came trooping 
back upon me with such disquieting effect, that, un- 
christian as it may sound, I would have given my left 
hand to be able to run Abram ben Aden through with 
my sword, and there and then make an end of him. 
But, as it was, I could only conjecture, and conjec- 
turing on a matter of life and death is positively the 


SETTLING ACCOUNTS. 


125 


most unsatisfactory exercise in which the human 
mind can engage. 

You may be sure I kept a sharp look-out that day, 
remaining constantly under my awning, save when 
I ran below to douse my head, which had a feverish 
tendency, or swallow a mouthful of food or drink. 
But the day passed, and no boat or other object hove 
in sight. I saw neither landmark nor watermark, nor 
even so much as the flash of a sea-bird’s wing — noth- 
ing but the dreary, blinding glitter of the eternal 
ocean plain. 

The darkness came, came at a stride, as Mr. Coleridge 
says, for in the tropics there is no twilight, but a leap 
from light to darkness, as if the night were lying in 
wait, and pounced upon the world as upon long-ex- 
pected prey. The stars came out like points of lam- 
bent flame in a fleckless, grey-blue sky, and by and 
by the moon rose with a sense of sovereignty, a maj- 
esty and magnificence never equalled on land. 
Higher and higher she mounted, her white, unveiled 
radiance nearly obliterating the stars in her path; 
and she smote with almost as cruel a stroke as the 
sun. There is a promise to the righteous that the sun 
shall not smite them by day nor the moon by night. 
The smiting of the sun dwellers in a temperate clime 
may partly understand, but the smiting of the moon, 
never. You must go to the East, and experience her 
addling, withering blight, to comprehend the fact that 
a hard Arabian moon will drive a strong man stark 
mad in a single night, if he lie unprotected from her 
light. Even with me under my covering she seemed 
to be sucking at my vitals. 

Weary with watching, and, to say the truth, more 
than a trifle worried, I fed my rats and went to bed. 
I lay long awake, in spite of fatigue and the soothing 
lullaby of lapping waters. At length I began to doze, 
frequently starting up, however, with a vivid impres- 
sion of hearing Abram ben Aden calling my name. 
Rising on my elbow, I would hearken, panting with 
excitement; but, the great silence being unbroken, 


126 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


save by the low, sweetly blended voices of wind and 
water, I would lie down again, to be honest, with 
something of the frozen feeling of a frightened child. 
Once I was constrained to get up and look out, first 
on one side, then on the other. But the deep serenity 
of nature was undisturbed. The moon shone resplen- 
dency, and the sea, gently crisped by the breeze, 
sparkled like fretted silver, or glowed with phos- 
phorescent fire. The night wind, soft and warm and 
odourous, caressed my face and head with a wooing 
murmur that would have been delicious, had I been 
in a frame of mind to enjoy it; and far aloft the 
stars palpitated in their azure setting with a sort of 
tender compassion. 

Ah ! mystery of mysteries, how came all those 
splendours to be above me? And how came I, of all 
the millions on earth, to look up at them from such 
an utter desolation ? Did I need the lesson of human 
feebleness more than any one else? Was my pride so 
stubborn, my disobedience so great, that I had to be 
sent out here, a second and lonelier Ishmael, to be 
humbled and corrected ? If the sins were many, truly 
the punishment was sore. Faint and trembling, I 
leaned against the side for support, and as I rubbed a 
clammy face my heart in its anguish and despair 
could have burst out in that desolate and piteous cry 
that went up from Calvary, the cry which vents the 
concentrated misery of a lost race: Yet is not God 
the God of mercy, is not God the God of love? I had 
scarcely asked myself the question when, as if by ce- 
lestial impulse, my mind flew back to a heathery brae- 
side, and I was nestling from threatening perils in 
arms that compassed me safely about. As one whom 
his mother comforteth ! The wounded animal seeks 
its lair that it may die in peace; the wounded spirit 
turns home that it may be strengthened and solaced, 
were it only by mere recollection. But for that di- 
vine memory, that swift flight through space and 
time, I might have gone that instant, and leaped from 
the bulwarks into the flood below. It was an impo- 


SETTLING ACCOUNTS. 


12 ? 


tent mood, the mood of a coward, if you like; but let 
those who have been similarly tried say if their hearts 
have never failed them ; and let those who have not 
beware what fate has in store for them. “ They jest 
at scars who never felt a wound,” or in the words of 
the. ancient moralist, “ In the thought of him that is 
at ease there is contempt for misfortune.” 

I returned to bed by-and-by, falling asleep at length 
on a resolution to be up next morning with the sun. 
As it turned out, I was astir in advance of my time. 
Just as the first glimmer of dawn flickered on the sea, 
I was startled by a noise of ropes upon the ship’s sides, 
a scurrying of feet on the deck, and a tumult of con- 
tending voices in shrill confusion all round. Quick 
as thought I tumbled out of bed, threw on my clothes, 
stuck a brace of revolvers in my belt, grasped my 
sword, and bounded up the companion-way. At the 
head there was an abrupt and uncomfortable stoppage, 
for no sooner did my foot touch deck than a score of 
gleaming scimitars were circling about my throat, in 
a fashion fit to turn the blood to ice. A throng of 
swarthy, fierce-eyed, vociferating villains pressed 
and brandished their weapons so truculently, that I 
could have sworn to a chilly sensation of steel in my 
windpipe, though as yet no one had actually touched 
me. Divining that the rascals were Arabs, I ‘de- 
manded in the Arab tongue, and in rather gasping ac- 
cents, what this sudden invasion and hostile display 
meant. At this, a familiar voice called out — 

“ Enlarge thy turban, friend ; great is the bountiful- 
ness of Fortune to her favourites.” 

There was a sardonic laugh from those whose blades 
were closest about my neck; then one, who seemed to 
be the leader, pushing a little forward, said sternly — • 
“This ship is ours! If thou art in love with thy 
life, surrender; if thou art tired of it, resist. Speak 
quickly !” 

The logic of this laconic speech being perfectly ir- 
restible, I immediately answered — 

“ Since I value my life, notwithstanding the diffi- 


128 ’ 


IN THE HAY OE BATTLE. 


culty of preserving it, I surrender. Will my friends 
lower their swords? There is no need for so much 
hostile steel at the throat of a defenceless man.” 

“ When thou hast given up thy weapons,” said the 
spokesman, curtly. 

“ They who do me the honour of this visit belong 
to a brave and chivalrous people,” I rejoined, remem- 
bering Asian manners; “I know their history, and 
the valour of their deeds, and the songs of their poets. 
I am a stranger, alone and at your mercy ; my arms 
are my sole possession, I pray you let me keep them.” 

“ Nay, by Fatima’s eyelash, arms in thy hands are 
as poison in the adder’s tongue,” cried Abram ben 
Aden, coming forward so that I now caught sight of 
him. There was a diabolical fire in his black eyes, 
and his face bore an insolent leer of triumph. The 
look of him put all my fear to flight, and in its place 
kindled a sudden and savage desire to be revenged. 

“That man,” I said, pointing in scorn and anger 
at him, and forgetting the fate that was so imminent, 
“ that man has betrayed me. He has brought you 
here to plunder. Is it not so?” 

Perhaps it was the unexpected audacity of my mien 
and question that made them answer so promptly and 
frankly, but instantly a dozen of them called out, “ It 
is So.” 

“I have taken this viper to my breast,” I cried, 
“ and he has stung me. It is a base thing that stings 
the hand that helps it. By the honour of your fath- 
ers, by your love of vengeance, I charge you to leave 
him to me. Let it be seen this day how treachery 
and ingratitude can be requited. We two have eat- 
en salt together; now he clamours for my life. It is 
his if he can take it. You will grant the prayer of 
a forsaken stranger that no hand but his enemy’s 
be raised against him.” 

All this while, the Arabs were swarming upon 
deck, and pushing and crushing and craning to see 
me, and catch m} 7- words. Their looks encouraged 
me. 


SETTLING ACCOUNTS. 


129 


“The ship is yours,” 1 went on, still more boldly. 
“ I yield it without a murmur, only let me put my 
life against the life of this son of a dog. ” 

“Why do we waste time?” demanded Abram ben 
Aden, savagely. “ Let his infidel throat feel the 
edge of a believer’s sword. Who is he that he 
should bandy words with us? Off with his head; 
to the sharks with his carcase, and let us to the 
spoil.” 

“ Thou art as wise as the goat of Akhfash, Abram 
ben Aden,” said the man whom I took to be the leader. 
“ Thy tongue outspeeds thy wit as the lightning leaves 
the desert caravan. He has yielded the ship to us. 
He is ready to put his life upon thy blade-point if 
thou wilt grant him a like privilege in return. A 
fair bargain, by the memory of Sikander-el-Rumi. 
Many a time hast thou boasted of thy skill with the 
sword; thou lovest revenge as well as any man. 
Here is thy opportunity to show thou possessest one 
and canst take the other. . . . What think ye?” ad- 
dressing his comrades. “ Is it not as I say?” 

“ It is as thou sayest,” came quickly in chorus from 
the two-score eager men. 

Inspired by this favourable change of sentiment, 
I strode forward, and before he could raise a finger 
to prevent me, caught Abram ben Aden firmly by the 
beard. 

“ Last night we ate salt together,” I said; “it was 
the vow of friendship: to-day I spit in thy vile face; 
it is the vow of eternal enmity,” and suiting the ac- 
tion to the word, I spat full in his face. It is the 
greatest affront you can offer an Arab, or indeed to 
any man of the Moslem faith. 

“ Thou shalt rue it !” he shrieked, stamping with 
rage, while he wiped his face. “ By the holy Prophet, 
thou shalt rue it! Mark me, son of an infidel dog, 
my sword will slake its thirst ten times over in thy 
blood. I will hew thee in pieces; I will scatter thee 
to the winds, so that no man can gather the frag- 
ments. ” 


130 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


In an instant I was back with my sword at the 
guard ready for the attack. 

“Thou hast there the sword I gave thee,” I said. 
“Crown thy baseness, and scatter me.” 

“ Thou art a fool !” he hissed. “ There are better 
things than letting the blood out of thy foul Christian 
body. I will take revenge for this defilement, yea, 
revenge that will not so much as leave thy name 
among men; but not now.” 

“Hear how a coward can speak,” I said to the 
crowd. “ But give us room. Either he takes his re- 
venge now, or I take mine. ” 

“Yea, leave them room,” rose on all sides, and the 
mass pushed back, making a vacant space in the mid- 
dle. On the one side stood Abram ben Aden, his 
lean dark face like a fiend’s, his knotted throat and 
swarthy chest heaving with a short convulsive mo- 
tion, his half-parted lips white with bubbling foam, 
his fingers nervously clutching the handle of his 
sword ; on the other was I, motionless, deadly pale, 
I am sure, but with a fixed determination to die or 
have vengeance. I was perfectly calm, probably be- 
cause the hazard was so desperate. The gaze of all 
those alien eyes was as nothing ; as nothing, too, was 
the chance of being killed. Thought and purpose and 
feeling were concentrated on a single terrible idea. 
If I had come thus far to die I would not quit the 
scene for nothing. 

I made a movement forward, and Abram ben Aden 
squeezed back, saying it was of more consequence to 
secure the booty than to turn aside to put a toad out 
of existence. But the circular human wall was solid, 
and he could not get away. As he struggled igno- 
miniously, I advanced and struck him on the cheek 
with the flat of my sword. 

“ If there be aught else I can do to affront thee,” I 
said, “name it.” 

He glared like a baited bull as I stepped nimbly 
back a little; then, thinking to rush in and end the en- 
counter at a blow, he sprang at me with the headlong 


SETTLING ACCOUNTS. 


131 


ferocity of a tiger. But lie had miscalculated. Swerv- 
ing slightly, I caught his blade on mine, and the sharp, 
fell ringing of steel announced to the remotest of the 
spectators that two men were fighting for their lives. 

We got every opportunity to slay each other accord- 
ing to our own methods. The crowd preserved com- 
plete silence, showing no disposition to interfere. 
There was no commotion ; the drama of death went 
on without sound, save what was made b} T the whis- 
tling, clashing swords of the combatants; for the 
Arabs, being undemonstrative on such occasions, take 
the sight of blood and the issues of life and death 
without excitement or horror or pity. 

I have no recollection of the particulars of the 
fight. I only know that, for my part, I went at it 
with a single simple purpose, that I had no thought 
of fancy swordsmanship, nor, indeed, of anything 
else, save not to yield while I could draw breath. 

My opponent had the first blood. By some acci- 
dent or clumsiness on my part his sword in glancnig 
off mine struck my shoulder, peeling it. But the 
wound, though it bled freely, was a flea-bite, and if 
it had any effect at all it was to spur me on. From 
that moment I pressed. the harder, forcing mj r antag- 
onist back inch by inch to larboard, the crowd giving 
way in that direction. He fought as a cornered devil 
might fight, but, in spite of his fury, or perhaps be- 
cause of it, I kept pushing him steadily before me 
till, at last, his heel was against the vessel’s side. 
Finding himself at the wall he uttered a great oath, 
the first word he had spoken since we engaged, and 
plied his weapon with such swiftness and force that 
it was a marvel I escaped being slain on the spot. No 
doubt it was my reckless calm that saved me, though 
it is fair to add it was materially aided by his igno- 
rance of point-play or the advantage of the thrust. 
At any rate, by meeting him at every point at once, as 
if I had the eyes of Argus and the hands of Briareus, 
I was able to maintain my ground ; nay, was able to 
keep his back glued to the brig’s side. 


132 


IN THE HAY OF BATTLE. 


Blood flowed on both sides, j’et the sight of it did 
not relax my resolution, if resolution it can be called, 
which was a blind determination to have my sword 
in my opponent’s vitals, or his in mine. One of us 
two must die ; that was the fell verdict. So we fought, 
not to show our science, but as men fight who are bent 
on killing each other in the shortest possible space of 
time. I had but to look into his eyes to see the fate 
intended for me, and I dare say he looked into mine 
and read with equal clearness that meant for him. 

There was no device known to either of us — and 
Abram ben Aden must have cursed himself for my 
dexterity — to which we did not resort. Yet the ad- 
vantage hung in the balance ; and the stolid gravity 
of the spectators was giving place to a restless impa- 
tience to see one of us finish the other. 

The breathing was becoming hard and fast, and 
there was some risk we might be deprived of the sat- 
isfaction for which both of us panted by our very eager- 
ness and violence in trying to get it. That some 
such thought must have flashed across Abram ben 
Aden’s mind was quickly made manifest by his ma- 
noeuvring. Blowing and staggering as if in the last 
stage of exhaustion, he suddenly swerved, apparently 
with the intention of flight, at the same time making 
a very feeble defence. The ruse nearly gave him my 
life. For an instant I thought I had him, and my 
whole being thrilled with unholy glee. But the light 
in his eyes and my knowledge of his crafty ways 
speedily put me on my guard again and restrained my 
ill-timed exultation. Well for me that they did. 
Scarcely had I recovered myself when Abram ben 
Aden, with a great roar, and strokes that fell like 
lightning, charged upon me, pushing me back and 
nearly running in under my sword. But he had de- 
layed the onset just a second too long. Had he made 
his rush immediately on the heels of his retreat, I had 
been a dead man. But he took too much pains to 
mislead me. Deception had o’erleaped itself and 
opened my eyes. 


SETTLING ACCOUNTS. 


133 


But be was quickly to make amends for his mis- 
take in tactics. He had been a savage before; his 
failure turned him into a fiend. His sword sang in 
my ears like a nest of hornets, and his blows fell like 
a shower of missiles. Overborne by an onslaught that 
was the very fury of the pit, I went steadily back, 
though exerting all my strength and skill. Abram 
ben Aden had got his second wind, which was 
stronger than the first, while I was done. The end 
must be at hand. 

This curdling thought had just been forced upon 
me, when, in one of our most furious moments, my 
antagonist’s sword broke without warning in his 
hand. 

My blood became as fire at the sight, and I must 
have swelled with the consciousness of victory. Now, 
in very truth, I had him. He was mine — mine to 
do with him as I would. Escape was impossible; 
no power under heaven could rob me of my re- 
venge. 

But the elation was just a trifle premature ; the cal- 
culations a trifle too confident. There were two 
things I failed to take into account — the valour of the 
desperate, and the resource of a self-possessed rogue, 
who had spent his life in shedding blood. Quick as 
his own evil thought, he plucked a crooked dagger 
from his girdle, and swift as the swoop of an eagle 
he was upon me. He came very near sheathing his 
blade in my body. But, more by luck than skill, I 
struck the weapon from his grasp, and it flew over 
the heads of the crowd into the sea, while a writhing 
horror shot across Abram ben Aden’s face. 

I suppose a devilish rapture leaped afresh into mine ; 
for, with a despairing cry upon the name of Allah, 
he shrank back, impotently shielding himself with 
outspread hands; and, being balked in his effort to 
get away, clamoured aloud for mercy. Mercy! 
mercy to the serpent that has stung you, yea, the 
mercy of swift and violent death, the mercy that 
would not only kill, but tear and rend and scatter the 


134 


IN THE DAY OP BATTLE. 


fragments to the winds — even such mercy as he would 
show to me. 

Drawing in my breath deep and fierce, I paused 
just an instant to gloat over my triumph. My enemy 
would have been a piteous sight to any one not beside 
himself with the madness of destruction. His hor- 
ror-struck, blood-shot eyes protruded as if they had 
been half plucked out, and left hanging upon the 
edges of the sockets ; his gnarled throat and wrinkled 
chest laboured hideously with the rasping, spasmodic 
action of a beast in the throes of a sudden agony ; and 
his knees knocked together like castanets. But to 
me, in my flaming state, his distress was joy un- 
speakable, such electric, diabolic joy as the destroyer 
feels in the supreme moment of victory. I could 
scarcely believe that Heaven had delivered the black- 
hearted ingrate and betrayer into my hands. 

To make certain of satisfying my fury upon him, 
I would despatch him at once. This full cup of bliss 
must not on any account be imperilled. 

I stepped forward, sword in air, to cleave the cring- 
ing thing in two: But the blow never fell. Even 
with all my passions raging, I could not take advan- 
tage of a creature so abject. 

“ I have broken your sword,” I said in a hoarse rat- 
tle, “ now I will break your neck and, dropping my 
weapon, I sprang at him. 

The next instant we were reeling in deadly wrestle. 
He was a grown man, strong, sinewy, and uncom- 
monly active ; I was but a stripling, soft of bone and 
muscle; yet my arms were no sooner about him than 
J knew which of us was master. We rolled and 
swayed to and fro, I doing my best to squeeze and 
shake the wind out of him and he striving, like the 
foul fiend, to get at my throat ; but my hold was firm 
if my breath should be short; and, besides, I was at 
familiar exercise, whereas the game must have been 
strange to him. When I judged the wind to be 
pretty well out of him I drew him close to me with a 
sudden jerk, my elbows hard on his ribs, my left knee 


FIGHTING FOR THE BOOTY. 


135 


at the joint of his right leg; then, carefully main- 
taining the bear-like embrace, while putting forth my 
whole strength, I bent him back and he turned over 
like a willow sapling. The next moment the fingers 
of my left hand were fixed like hooks of steel in the 
links of his throat, while the right clutched the lower 
part of his body, and, before he could recover, I lifted 
him high in the air and brought him down with all 
my might on the edge of the bulwark. He yelled in 
the excruciation of the pain. But a sort of Pythian 
frenzy was upon me. It was death, or nothing. In 
an instant he was up again, but finding him limp and 
listless in my hands, instead of bringing him down 
with a second crash, I hurled him headlong from me, 
as a thing not worth attention, and he fell into the 
sea with a splash like a log. 


CHAPTER XII. 

FIGHTING FOR THE BOOTY. 

I took no heed whether he sank or swam, nor in- 
deed so much as cast a glance after him ; but, turn- 
ing quickly on my heel, picked up my crimsoned 
sword, wdping it roughly on a coil of rope that lay 
handy. Then, making my best salaam to the pirate 
leader, and speaking as well as a blown man might, 
I said, “ You have graciously granted my prayer and 
the satisfaction for which my soul yearned ; in token 
of submission and gratitude, I now sheathe my sword 
in sight of all.” And, suiting the action to the word, 
I shot the weapon into its steel scabbard, with a clash 
that could be heard all over the ship. The chief 
bowed grimly in return, but without speaking a 
word; then, courtesies being at an end, he gave the 
command, and the looting began. 

Leaning against the companion head, I watched 
the wild rush and scuffle for a minute; but being 
greatly hustled and buffeted, and feeling faint be- 


136 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


sides, I tottered to a secluded corner, where I sank 
with a reeling sensation on the deck. Huddled there, 
pretty much like a bundle of old clothes, I mopped 
my face, and tried to discover the sources of the 
many streams of blood that seemed to ooze and trickle 
all over my body. There was, perhaps, no great 
effort made to staunch the flow, for I was far enough 
gone to be careless. What did it matter? Might 
I not quietly pant out my life there and be done with 
it? And even while the thought was in my mind, 
the brightness of the sun was suddenly overfcast, as 
by the duskiness of death, and the clamour of the 
robbers died away in my ears. 

I must have been some time in this state of collapse, 
when the brig grated harshly on the bottom, careened 
slightly, lurched and lay over, fast aground. The 
queer grating sensation, as of the pricking of a mil- 
lion small pins, roused me, and I staggered, half 
awake, to my feet. The first thing I saw was 
Abram ben Aden being hauled dripping by two 
men into a boat. I rubbed my eyes, wondering 
how he came to be in need of help, or to have com- 
panions to render it, and finding no answer, called 
out as lustily as I could, “ Hello! What’s the matter 
there?” 

He heard and looked up. At sight of me the fire 
of hell sprang anew into his black eyes, and his thin 
features gathered in a malevolent scowl. Then my 
wandering wits began to return, bringing a remem- 
brance of what had happened. 

I should have fallen into the sea but for the sup- 
port of the bulwark. In a dizzying turmoil of feel- 
ings I laid hold with trembling hands to keep myself 
up, my eyes fast on the distorted face of Abram ben 
Aden. 

“ God ! man, are ye much hurt?” I asked, scarcely 
knowing what I said. “We’re a pair of fools,” I 
added, laughing and crying together. 

But either he did not hear me or he was beyond 
speech, for he only cast a look as if to say he wished 


FIGHTING FOR THE BOOTY. 137 

he had my heart out, and slipped into the boat, which 
hid him from my view. 

I was fain to sit down again, my back propped 
against the vessel’s side, and breathe myself. The 
commotion of spirit brought a fresh gush of blood, 
which bathed back and chest in a warm stream. Yet 
what I had just seen occupied me more than my 
wounds. Indeed, forgetting both them and the black 
vindictiveness of Abram ben Aden’s countenance, I 
felt only an all-pervading joy at seeing him alive 
again. For now, being past thoughts of vengeance, 
and much too weak to have heart for slaughter, I 
realized in some measure what a disquieting thing it 
is to face the great last reckoning with the blood 
of a fellow -creature on your head. I hoped that the 
man whom I had so lately and so desperately striven 
to kill might live, evpn were it only to finish me. 
And I am sure I should have smiled inanely; who 
knows but I may have beamed in welcome if he had 
suddenly appeared, sword in hand, and intimated that 
my time was come? No doubt my mood of Christian 
meekness and charity was due to the circumstance 
that nature was perilously near yielding in any case. 
I suspect the best of us occasionally owe our piety to 
lack of pith. 

Reviving a little presently, I began to think of my 
own life (since no one else seemed to desire it especi- 
ally just then), and exerted what surgical skill I 
possessed. It was not much, and it received no aid. 
Lying there in the midst of a crowd, no one inquired 
about my hurts, no one offered help; no one, in fact, 
cared a straw whether I lived or died. The plunder- 
ing went on with much noise and not a little quarrel- 
ling, and if the plunderers came near it was only to 
curse at me for being in the way. 

Perhaps they could not have adopted more effective 
means of dispelling my . lethargy. There are times 
when a kick, literal or metaphorical, is the very best 
tonic that can be administered . The rough behaviour 
of the pirates pricked me to a vigourous self-interest 


138 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


that no process of soothing or doctoring could have 
induced. The savage oaths and savager looks were 
to my spirit what the grindstone is to the knife ; they 
turned listlessness and dulness to an activity that had 
an edge of anger, and some possibility of retaliation. 
The first result of this new found energy was. the 
thought that to crouch there and bleed to death was 
most assuredly not the part of a man. So, watching 
my opportunity (for the companion-way was mostly 
blocked with thieves), I went below to finish my 
dressing. 

Fortunately my wounds, though making so gory 
a show, were neither deep nor dangerous. But it was 
wonderful in how many places Abram ben Aden had 
touched me; more wonderful still that having suc- 
ceeded so far he had not succeeded farther. I owed 
my escape to the fact, as I have already hinted, that 
the Arab swordsman has still to learn the use of the 
point. 

Returning on deck presently, swathed in handker- 
chiefs and stray pieces of cloth, and strengthened by 
twenty grains of Mr. Watson’s quinine, I discovered 
we were within sight of land. A stretch of shallow, 
blue-green water ran away to a sandy beach that 
ended abruptly in iron cliffs, which suggested hard- 
ness and barrenness beyond. 

“What is the land?” I asked one of the corsairs, 
pointing shoreward. 

“Thou shaft know soon enough,” he snarled; and 
concluding that perhaps the fellow was right, I for- 
bore to put more questions. 

Meanwhile the unloading of the brig went on apace. 
A score of small boats lay round her to receive the 
plunder, and some thirty or forty men swore on her 
decks and ravaged her hold. They quarrelled inces- 
santly, shouting, pushing, kicking, brandishing knives 
and cutlasses, and pouring out curdling maledictions 
and threats that to a less fervid race could mean nothing 
short of an instant intention to revel in blood, but never 
staying the main operations to settle personal disputes. 


FIGHTING FOR THE BOOTY. 


139 


Islam has a Koran which straitly forbids thieving, 
yet the Arab is by education and example a thief. 
A pattern of piety when there happens to be no 
chance of profitable roguery, saintly in his .obser- 
vances of prescribed ceremonials inside a mosque or 
when he has leisure for prayers outside, a loud talker 
about the duty of obedience to God and the Prophet, 
he is the very flower, the perfection of brigands and 
bandits when he can securely lay hands on another 
man’s goods. Nor does he regard discipline more 
than religion ; for whatever deference he may profess 
for authority, pillage swiftly transforms him into a 
rebel. No sooner had the band about me got to work 
than it was a howling, disorganized mob, regardless 
alike of leader, order, and unity of interest. 

Civilization teaches the value of concerted action ; 
the barbarian lacks the intelligence to understand the 
use of combination in crime ; the art and policy of a 
judicious division of spoils are beyond him. Conse- 
quently, in that scene of clamourous contention, each 
rogue simply seized and made off with what he could 
gather, defending his booty with tooth and claw, 
after the manner of his fellow-savages, the wolf and 
tiger. Standing idly by, I took a grim delight in 
noting how they thwarted and hindered themselves, 
and what time and energy were spent in bootless 
scuffling. 

As the cargo diminished the struggle grew hotter 
and the hubbub louder. Curses and recriminations 
rose shrill and fierce; faces were black and swollen 
with avarice, eyes ablaze with anger; and it seemed 
the thing must inevitably end in a flood of gore. 

“ May the devil fly away with thee, thou son of a 
dog !”...“ I will see thee in the clutches of Azrael,* 
thou mongrel cat, ere parting with an ounce 
weight to thee!” . . . “May perdition be thy 

eternal portion, thou foul thief!” . . . “Calamity 
make thy leg bare !” . . . “ May scorpions eat 
thy heart out, thou unjust man !” . . . “ By Allah, 
* Azrael, the angel of death. 


140 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


I will cut thy head off!” . . . “Malec* have thee 
eternally in his keeping!” . . . “May thy hands 
rot for their greediness, oh, most wicked of rob- 
bers !” . . . “ Mayest thou be seethed in boiling oil !” 
Such were some of the stimulating cries with which 
the pillagers carried on their scramble. 

In the midst of the strife, when the tumult was 
at its height, and the company so intent on clutch- 
ing and tearing from each other that they had no 
eyes for anything else, suddenly there rang out a 
startled cry that sent burdens rolling on the deck and 
hands gripping in girdles for pistol or blade. 

“Enemy, enemy!” yelled a man, who chanced to 
lookout to sea; and sure enough there, less than a 
tenth of a league off, were two large boats full of men 
coming swiftly towards us, under the combined im- 
pulsion of sail and oar. Perhaps a sixth of a league 
beyond there rode at anchor a vessel of strange rig 
and build, from which it was plain they had come. 

The crew on board the Bird of Paradise acted 
with the valour of surprised thieves. Evidently of 
the mind that half a loaf is better than no bread, many 
of them leaped into the boats alongside and tried to 
make off with what booty they had managed to se- 
cure. But before they could get away the strangers 
were among them, and in a twinkling half the boats 
were floating keel up. It was surprising to see the 
rapidity with which boat after boat canted over and 
emptied its contents, human and inanimate, into the 
sea. A push, the touch of an oar, a jerk on bows or 
stern seemed to do it. But skill ever gives an idea of 
ease ; and it was plain the present performers were 
playing familiar parts. The fellows in the water 
spluttered, bellowed, and threatened; but as the 
tongue was the only weapon they were able to use 
with any freedom, their opposition scarce counted as 
a hindrance. The strangers laid about them with 
their oars with such vigour and dexterity, such light- 
ning-like quickness and precision, that ere one could 
* Malec, the keeper of Hades, 


FIGHTING FOR THE BOOTY. 


141 


say the thing had well begun hardly a boat remained 
right side up. 

Having worked confusion in the water, the con- 
querors came clambering over the sides of the brig, 
their ugly, crooked swords in their teeth, and a light 
in their eyes that was uglier than the gleam of their 
steel. There was a pretence of resistance by the re- 
mainder of the first comers, but before there was any 
chance of slaughter they were dodging about the deck, 
and playing hide-and-seek about the masts. At this 
signal of surrender weapons were put up with a 
promptness that would have astonished any one ig- 
norant of Arab ways ; and with one accord all hands 
— first comers and last alike — fell to the old game, 
only that now instead of being lowered into boats the 
goods were thrown into the sea, which was soon 
thickly mottled with bales and boxes. It did not 
take long to relieve the brig of her cargo, and as soon 
as the last bale was overboard the robbers followed it 
to continue the scrimmage outside. 

For me who remained on the brig there was no lack 
of entertainment. There was exhilaration amounting 
at times to positive excitement in watching the nim- 
bi en ess and straits of the combatants and the fre- 
quency with which the booty changed hands. The 
incidents were often such as would have made free- 
minded spectators roar with delight. Now there 
would be a knot of men inextricably entangled, as it 
might seem, and just as you thought the lot must go 
down together, a lucky boat would dart clear. Then 
there would be exciting pursuit and capture, or the 
runaway, giving all its attention to its pursuers, 
would rush into the clutches of a skirmisher lying in 
wait on the outskirts. Again, a cluster of boats 
would be locked into a sort of pontoon-bridge, which 
would sway and rock for a while, till in the energy 
of the action it would suddenly tilt or careen, pitch- 
ing men and goods into the water ; or again, two men 
wrestling would lose their balance and turn over like 
revolving buoys, to come up blinking, spluttering, 


142 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


and streaming at the mouth as if they were automatic 
pumps. Then, shaking themselves roughly like a 
couple of drenched dogs, they would probably close 
again to repeat the same diverting peformance. Thus 
the sport went on with endless variety of incident and 
no bloodshed that I could see to mar the enjoyment. 

By degrees the combatants drew away fom me, for 
besides the tendency of such a battle to spread, the 
ebbing tide was carrying the wares out to sea, mak- 
ing it necessary to follow them. It was clear that 
the last comers were getting most of the spoil. A 
few of the others, dodging and watching their chance, 
managed to make off, carrying freight for ballast, but 
the frequent trips to and fro between the centre of 
war and the anchored ship told where most of the 
plunder was going. 

There are no reapers with a tithe of the energy and 
speed of pirates. In spite of the time wasted in use- 
less contention, in spite of races, captures, somersaults, 
and the thousand and one egregious hindrances in- 
dulged in, as might almost appear from a spirit of 
sheer frivolity, the harvest was quickly gathered, and 
very soon the only floating objects to be seen were the 
ship with her boats near at hand, and in the distance 
other boats running for life with the tide. 

As the diversion declined, my mind naturally re- 
verted to my own miserable condition. What was to 
become of me? Was I to be left to my own devices 
with a stranded ship and no commons? And if so, 
what should I do? Should I make my way ashore 
and risk the savageness of man and beast, or remain 
on the brig to await developments? While I was 
thus thinking and debating, a boat put off from the 
pirate ship and rowed towards me. Coming along- 
side, its crew climbed on board the brig, and, judging 
it best to be civil, I received them with a profound 
salaam and a cordial marhaba, or welcome. I might 
have saved my pains. Instead of returning my salu- 
tation the leader came forward with drawn sword, 
demanding to know whether there was any treasure 


FIGHTING FOR THE BOOTY. 143 

on board, and intimating that if he caught me in a 
lie my throat would be cut on the spot. I assured 
him that I knew of no treasure, but invited them to 
search for themselves, since there might be secret re- 
cesses in the ship that I had not discovered. 

“Thou shalt be guide,” said the fellow, “and as 
thou valuest thy life, a true one. It is likely thou 
knowest the taste and virtue of steel.” 

It is perhaps unnecessary to say that I complied with 
alacrity, conducting them faithfully into every corner 
above and below, for the fear of death gives wondrous 
fidelity. They examined very deliberately as they 
went along; battering, probing, even rending the 
. frailer fittings and boardings, hanging upon doubtful 
sounds from beam or bulkhead, and then in their dis- 
appointment turning with furious questions and men- 
aces on me, as if I were responsible for their ill-luck, 
or were concealing valuable knowledge. One fellow, 
muttering that I was playing the innocent just a lit- 
tle too much, thrust at me ferociously with his sword, 
saying that if I did not wish to be cut in two I had 
better spurt out all I knew. Fortunately he was not 
close enough to do damage, and on my answering him, 
with a fervency that must have carried conviction to 
the heart of a stone, that I knew no more than he did, 
he passed on with a curse on my stupidity and blind- 
ness. I fairly perspired with the tension of it ; and 
indeed there were frequently recurring moments when 
I lost hope of ever getting into the upper air again. 
But I was suffered to live because my death would 
have profited them nothing, and because, however 
strong the inclination, there was no time to be wan- 
tonly cruel. 

Feeling their way foot by foot, and taking nothing 
for granted, they went over the whole interior of the 
ship— hold, forecastle, cabin, officers’ quarters and all; 
questioning, contradicting, threatening, and every 
minute getting more and more frightful with looks 
of disappointment and rage. 

My poor belongings they scattered like chaff, ap- 


144 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


propriating what they considered worth carrying 
away, and effectually disposing of the remainder by 
cutting and tearing it into shreds and then throwing 
the rags into the sea. Besides my clothes they took 
all my weapons (save a pistol I had hidden), and all 
the ammunition they could find, but by good chance 
I was able to save my mother’s Bible and Duncan’s 
pipes, Isabel’s two bunches of white heather, and the 
miniature of Donald Gordon, treasures which, as you 
may suppose, were almost as my life to me. To this 
were added some powders and pills left by Mr. W at- 
son. The rifling done, I was peremptorily ordered 
on deck, and I ascended alone. 

This arrangement puzzled me, but I was soon en- 
lightened. In a few minutes a thin column of smoke 
curled up through the after hatch, then another rose 
further forward, then another and another, till the 
several volumes spread and blended into a thick cloud. 

It grieved me to see the brig’s fate sealed in this 
way ; we had been friends long, and she had saved 
me when there was no hope. But what could I do to 
save her? 

When the fire had gained sufficient headway to en- 
sure its speedy victory, the incendiaries reappeared, 
and one of them, pointing with his sword to the boat 
alongside, growled that I might get in. In an in- 
stant I was down and crouching meekly in the bows, 
where I was likeliest to be out of the way. The 
others followed quickly, and we rowed away, leav- 
ing the Bird of Paradise in a sheet of flame. Al- 
most in the same moment my company of rats sprang 
into the water, and struck out gallantly for the shore. 
In spite of fear I could not help giving them a hearty 
“ well done” for farewell. 


IN THE HANDS OF THE CORSAIRS. 


145 


CHAPTER XIII. 

IN THE HANDS OF THE CORSAIRS. 

Immediately on boarding the Arab vessel we hove 
up anchor, set sails, and flew away to sea with a 
smart breeze on our port quarter. The ship was a 
queer one, but it was soon proved that, however odd 
in appearance, she was an uncommonly swift and 
graceful sailer. She carried three masts, lateen sails, 
and a jib. The fore and main masts were without 
tops, or top-gallants, and, of course, without caps or 
cross-trees. The long slender hull was jet black, and, 
what was strangest of all, the upper deck was sharply 
convex, with level gratings running round the sides. 
The convexity, as I afterwards discovered, was meant 
to make a ready way for water to the scuppers, or in 
times of stress for blood; while the gratings, by ob- 
viating the slant, made the footing firm, a matter of 
importance in storm or action. She carried no col- 
ours : nor did any inscription, such as ships usually 
bear, give a hint of her port or nationality. Finally, 
though light, she was well armed.* 

Every stitch of her ocherous canvas was crowded 
on, and beautifully she swept along, heeling and dip- 
ping under the bellying sails, the bright green water 
swishing from her gleaming sides, and the snow-drift 
flying from her fore-foot in a way that would have 
been pure ecstasy to one with an untroubled mind. 
Even I felt the gladness of the rushing, arrowy mo- 
tion, though on the whole the speed was more omi- 
nous than inspiring, seeing the dubious tune to which 
I might be made to dance at the end of the trip. 

The strain of dark uncertainty was somewhat re- 
lieved by the diversion of studying the crew, who 

* The vessel was the dreaded xebec, the terror of the high 
seas when Algerine corsairs flourished, and still of evil re- 
pute on the coasts of Arabia. 

10 


146 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


were a living epitome of the fashions, past and cur- 
rent, of pretty nearly all the nations of the earth. 
Probably no company of equal size ever displayed 
a like variety of costumes ; assuredly none could be 
more innocent of ablutions or on more distant terms 
with the tailor. It was impossible to say which gave 
the greater distinction, the diversity, the dirt, or the 
tatters. There were Arab shirts reaching to the an- 
kle, Indian turbans, Syrian combazes, European jer- 
kins, top-boots, jerseys, hats and frock coats, Persian 
gowns, breeches of all known cuts and countries — in 
every degree of foulness, in every stage of decay and 
raggedness — jumbled together as if some malicious 
artist had tried what effects of incongruity and gro- 
tesqueness, what outrages on taste and decency he was 
capable of achieving. 

The captain might have challenged the world to 
match him as an example of the ridiculous. He was 
elaborately arrayed in a steeple-beaver, strongly sug- 
gestive of the defunct missionary, in spite of its 
jaunty ostrich plume and tarnished silver band ; a 
coarse woollen shirt, smeared like a hog in autumn ; 
a leathern girdle, from which depended a sword, a 
brace of pistols, and a crooked dagger full of signifi- 
cant purple stains ; Turkish trousers that had origi- 
nally been crimson, but were now of more hues than 
the makers of Joseph’s coat ever dreamed of, a pair of 
red boots that must once have had their splendour on 
state assemblies and gatherings of grandees; and 
sashes enough of various colours to furnish a regi- 
ment of sheiks. The decorations were thickest in the 
rear; indeed, when the gallant captain turned his 
back, it might seem that some mischievous sprite 
had clapped a porous plaster on a certain part of his 
person, so oddly mixed were the incrustations of tar, 
grease, paint, and other adhesive susbtances. No 
sense of absurdity, however, disturbed his serene self- 
consequence. He paced the deck with as proud a 
step, as high and keen a look as if he were an Ad- 
miral of the Fleet in faultless uniform, and the evi- 


IX THE HANDS OP THE CORSAIRS. 


147 


dence of a hundred victories blazing on his breast. 
He seldom condescended to any familiarity with those 
about him, never with me crouching in my comer. 

We tore along at an incredible rate, and" were soon 
beyond sight of land, though for a good while the 
smoke of the burning brig showed our starting-point. 
Whither we were bound I could not guess, and durst 
not ask. I was free to conjecture, if I pleased, that 
our course was for some happy haven not far off, 
though appearances rather suggested a cruise for less 
desirable things. 

By-and-by we hauled our wind and began to fetch 
in a backward direction. But we had not gone a 
league when we bounded off on another tack ; and for 
the next hour or two we tacked and changed so fre- 
quently, running close-hauled as if for our lives, and 
dropping off as if in sheer perversity, that I com- 
pletely lost my reckoning. 

It was wonderful how that strangely built ship be- 
haved, how sensitive she was to the gentlest pressure 
of the helm, how clean, quick, and graceful were all 
her movements, and how she rushed on her course 
when she got her head. In spite of rather rough sea- 
manship, only once did she make a mistake. Through 
a too hasty luff she happened to come dead into the 
wind’s eye, and for the space of a second she hung 
in irons with loose sails. She seemed to shake herself 
with vexation like a highly spirited horse thrown 
on its haunches without reason, turned quickly half 
round, caught the wind again, and then, with her 
yellow wings spread to their utmost went skimming 
along like a sea bird. 

It was now well on in the afternoon. The sun, 
though scorchingly hot, was near our level, and the 
water had a sheen of purple and crimson. I was be- 
ginning to think we were to have a night at sea, 
when the captain gave the order to put the helm hard 
down; we swung round and sped on a landward 
course, sailing free and very swift. 

“We shall make land a good hour ere sundown,” 


148 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


said the captain to his chief officer, giving me the 
first authentic information of the day. 

By this time my faculty of curiosity had lost its 
edge, but at the mention of land I sat up to keep a 
look out, and in less than an hour we sighted the 
shore. Its general character resembled that of the 
part we had left earlier in the day, though I soon saw 
we were not returning to the death scene of the luck- 
less Bird of Paradise . Instead of a shallow beach 
the water ran close to high rocks penetrated by 
rugged gorges, into which the sea flowed. No port, 
town, or human habitation was to be seen ; but that, 
all things considered, was not surprising. 

We shot into a narrow opening under the darken- 
ing brows of toppling cliffs, and immediately the sails 
fell together with a flap. Almost before they ceased 
fluttering they were in and furled. Then a boat was 
lowered, half a dozen steel-sinewed men got into it 
and rowed, pulling the ship by a cable. Light and 
of small draught, she followed easily, and in half an 
hour or so, after manifold windings, we came to a 
rude jetty hewn, as it appeared, out of the solid rock. 
Here we disembarked, the vessel being made fast to 
a rough stone pillar. 

As we leaped from the bulwarks to the ledges of 
rock that formed the pier, my heart fluttered like a 
bird’s with conjecture and apprehension, for it was 
plain that a crisis was at hand. To guess what it 
might be was enough to make the stoutest tremble. 
The black precipices, the yawning caverns, and hoarse 
roar of warring waters, were of evil suggestion, but 
of far darker import than any menace or ugliness of 
nature were the lowering faces of my companions. 
These men had shown during the day by a hundred 
expressive tokens that they resented my presence 
among them, and now I fancied I caught them cast- 
ing sidelong looks at one another, then at their 
weapons, then at me, as if settling by such glances of 
intelligence the manner of getting rid of me. 

With quaking limbs and the direst forebodings, I 


IN THE HANDS OF THE CORSAIRS. 149 

fell into line at the bidding of the captain, and we 
struck single-file into a craggy path, at its best no 
broader than a sheep-run in the Highlands, and in 
places so narrow as scarcely to afford foothold for 
a weasel. Looking upward from the bottom, one 
could not imagine how it scaled the overhanging 
precipices that frowned upon us in vast swellings 
and juttings with the savage, solitary pride of the 
inaccessible. If the ascent did not prove utterly 
impossible, it was because every man of us had 
the feet of a goat and the sinews and agility of a 
monkey. 

Glancing ahead our ribbon of a path looked like a 
series of broken lines scratched by a madman’s chisel 
as it wound in crazy coilings and twistings, now ris- 
ing vertically a dozen feet of smooth slippery stone, 
now dropping treacherously into a fissure that went 
down black and yawning to the tormented sea, ceas- 
ing suddenly, and again appearing beyond some per- 
ilous projection that a chamois would hardly have at- 
tempted to pass. As often as not we were on hands 
and knees, scraping with toes and clutching with fin- 
ger-nails, as we crawled over some slippery mass, like 
ants on the polished knob of a glacier, or scrambled 
up a jagged rock the points of which cut and rent like 
sharpened flints, or slid down face inward twice our 
own length to a scarcely perceptible crevice, forming 
a fresh starting-point. I was bred a hunter, and 
knew what it was to scale cliffs and tread dizzy ways. 
I had followed the fox to his lair when the hounds 
had turned tail, and robbed the eagle’s eyrie when the 
hardiest of my companions stood beneath me holding 
his breath in awe. But the self-possession and free 
spirit of audacity which prompted to such hazards 
and gave them relish, were utterly gone; to speak 
the truth, I shivered like one suddenly taken with an 
ague, and a hundred times nearly lost grip and foot- 
ing and felt myself toppling. At such times I would 
pause, clutching wildly at any point or inlet on which 
finger or foot could lay hold, to be struck roughly with 


150 


IN THE HAY OF BATTLE. 


the butt-end of a musket, and told with many impre- 
cations to go on. 

It was not, as I have said, the terror of the place 
alone that appalled me. To go leaping and scram- 
bling on a hair line along the brink of a tumbling, hiss- 
ing gulf that sent the spumes of its wrath high up 
in clouds, with no outlook or hope of escape, was in- 
deed disconcerting enough, yet scarcely of itself suffi- 
cient to take the heart out of a born mountaineer. The 
tremours and shakings, the alternate spasms of heat 
and cold were due (I trust it is not cowardly to con- 
fess it) not to the threatenings of cliff and chasm, but 
to the hostile weapons that gleamed in front and 
rear, and might at any moment be dyed in my blood. 

How easy it would be to prod me there and send 
me toppling mortally wounded into the abyss, to be 
ground as between millstones at the bottom ! A sud- 
den stab in the back, a push, a giddy, headlong fall, 
and the deed would be done, and no word of it need 
ever get to the outside world. More than once, as 
my mind dwelt on this, I clung to the rocks, shud- 
dering like a child in mortal fright. The gruesome- 
ness of the situation was enhanced, too, by the eerie 
shadow of night. Here and there buttress and jut- 
ting promontory flushed into rose, and shone in gold 
and amethyst ; but these points of radiance only gave 
a hideous emphasis to the deepening gloom of the 
gorge. They were like the ghastty mockeries of a 
world I had once known, but was never to know 
again. 

I am no judge of how long or how far we had strug- 
gled when, on turning a sharp angle, we came upon 
an open space, or circular ledge, of the dimensions of 
a small room. Here we stopped, our sides heaving 
like the flanks of a spent hound, and the best of us 
glad to breathe himself. 

Whether by accident or the unsuspected design of 
those about me, I stood on the outer rim, the very 
edge of the wall that fell fifty fathoms sheer to the 
surging, unsounded depths beneath. Under that un- 


IN THE HANDS OF THE CORSAIRS. 


151 


accountable species of fascination which lures a man 
to gaze on the horrible and awful, I bent forward and 
looked into the black pit at my feet. With a swim- 
ming head I drew back. I had not taken a step when 
I was seized roughly from behind. An icy horror 
froze my blood, I gave a great gasp, and my knees 
knocked violently together. The fearful moment I 
had been anticipating had come. Shutting my e}’es 
I thought of Heaven and home and friends as* in a 
flash, and had just sufficient presence of mind to 
breathe a prayer. 

But, contrary to expectation, I did not feel myself * 
hurled into vacancy. They bandaged my eyes, and 
bound my hands to my sides, and, thus made helpless', 
left me standing. I shut my lips tight, and my eyes 
also, although they were covered, and awaited the 
fatal thrust and giddy whirl into space. Not a word 
was spoken. I heard the rustle of garments and the 
rattle of arms, and away below, the sullen muffled 
voice of the sea brooding in the wrath that was to 
kill me, but other sound there was none. The ill- 
boding silence was more terrifying than the menacing 
tongues of a hundred enemies, ay, or even than their 
swords. Could my captors not do the deed at once, 
and be done with it? and if they simply desired my 
death, why all this stealthy secrecy? Were they 
devils to make my last moments a sport and a mock- 
ery? 

In the crowding fears and agitations, the idea 
flashed upon me that they meant not only to slay, but 
to torture me. I thought of all I had read about liv- 
ing men being flayed and cut into bits by savages, 
and my flesh crept and shrank as if at the touch of 
the knife. It was only by keeping teeth and lips 
clenched that I managed to hold from venting my 
agony in shrieks. 

To my great astonishment and unutterable relief, 
the procession began to move on again, I being given 
the muzzle of a musket to direct my steps. Bruised, 
cut, bleeding, and panting with fear and fatigue, I 


152 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


stumbled often, causing my guide to curse savagely 
and threaten to pitch me head foremost down the cliff. 

I could not help thinking that if he were blindfolded 
he might go just as clumsily, though I had to keep the 
opinion guardedly behind my teeth. 

Presently there was another brief halt, and I could 
hear the Arabs in whispered consultation. Then I 
knew that part of the company went one way, and 
part another, I sticking to my gun barrel as if it were 
my sole hope of salvation. Another breathless clam- 
ber followed, doubly trying to me in my blinded con- 
dition, and in a little while I understood from the free 
play of the air that at last we had reached the top. 

I had hardly time to wonder what was coming next, 
when one of my guards spoke. 

“We wish to be rid of thee,” he said bluntly. “ Lis- 
ten well to my words ; for they concern thy very life. 
While we were yet far down the gulf, some said, ‘Cut 
him in two, and cast him to the fishes;’ others, and 
well for thee they prevailed, answered, ‘No, rather 
let him live, if so be he go not to come back. If he 
return, then shall his blood be upon his own head.’ 
Now we are merciful. We will lead thee to a place 
of safety some distance hence, and there leave thee ; 
only if for the space of one hour thou triest to free 
thine eyes from their covering, then as surely as thou 
doest it, thou shalt die ere thou hast time to look 
twice.” 

Without waiting for a word from me he gave the 
order, and we went on again. The ground was 
broken and uneven, but after the pit sides we had 
climbed, it was like the Queen’s highway. 

We may have marched for an hour, when we 
stopped. I was made to sit upon a stone ; then they 
untied my hands, admonishing me to remember the 
penalty for disobedience in respect to the bandage on 
my eyes, and having given me my pipes, which in a 
surprising spirit of generosity had been taken care of, 
they left me. 

I sat there for a while with perfect loyalty, acutely 


IN THE HANDS OF THE CORSAIRS. 


153 


mindful of the injunctions and admonitions I had re- 
ceived. I kept my hand tight on the green bag; in 
the stress of terror just gone through, I had forgotten 
it; but now that it was returned, its touch had for a 
moment something of the solace of an old friend’s 
presence. 

Partly to amuse myself, partly to compute the flight 
of time, I began to count the seconds, but it proved a 
weary process, and was given up, only, however, to 
be begun again, and again stopped, and yet again re- 
sumed, to be finally abandoned in despair. In the 
usual reckoning, an hour is but sixty short minutes ; 
that hour was an eternity. With stoical resolution, 
though anything but stoical indifference, I tried to sit 
stock still, imagining the while a hundred levelled 
spears at my side, ready to be plunged into me at my 
first movement. The ordeal kept every nerve aquiver ; 
every sense in a flutter of dread. 

The disciples of Zeus have a pretty doctrine about 
arming “the obdurate beast with stubborn patience, 
as with triple steel.” I hope they are able to do it in 
crucial emergencies. To me, seek it as I might, the 
stubborn patience would not come. In vain I pricked 
the will, in vain recalled lofty maxims about the duty 
of bearing pain heroically. It is glorious to shine 
as a hero; but at times exceedingly difficult. I 
cannot be of the God-like race for the harder 
I strove for fortitude, the faster my power of en- 
durance ebbed. 

I started and fidgeted, listened, held my breath, 
shivered, shrank together and perspired ; the air was 
full of ominous sounds, and horrible slimy things 
seemed to be crawling over me. At last the agony 
of blind suspense became insufferable. Come what 
might, I would have my eyes free. 

With trembling hands, and a caution that was amaz- 
ing in such burning impatience, I raised the bandage 
and glanced from under its edge, first on one side, 
then on the other. Seeing no watcher I tore the cloth 
off, and got to my feet, looking round with more care 


154 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


and deliberation. Not a soul was about. I was alone, 
absolutely alone. 

There was just light enough to enable me to discern 
I was in the middle of a wild desolation of gorges and 
piled-up cliffs rising in the dim distance to what ap- 
peared to be a range of mountains. More for vari- 
ety’s sake than from any definite object, I took up my 
pipes and began to walk forward from the sea. But 
some falls and frequent trippings, with sudden 
glimpses of a yawning world of blackness at my very 
feet, made it plain that to proceed in such a chaos of 
crags and clefts was to risk my neck at every step. 
Weary, faint, and in no heart to face unknown dan- 
gers, I sat down again, my back against a big stone, 
to reflect on the new turn affairs had taken. 

Hunger fell upon me with the fierceness of a beast 
of prey. Most people, I suppose, have felt a sharp 
craving in the stomach, but mine was a burning pain 
that soon became a maddening anguish. You are to 
remember that I had eaten nothing that day, that I 
was active and had the importunate appetite that 
comes with a full recovery from sickness, when na- 
ture is spurring to make up for lost time. Yet all I 
could do was to tighten my waist-belt and think 
yearningly of the hard tack of the Bird of Paradise, 
and dream ineffable dreams of the sumptuousness of 
home. Let me tell you that they who dine on such 
fare are not likely to die of repletion. The sting of 
the sword or the bullet is keen, but give it to me be- 
fore the inappeasable pang of starvation. 

The stars began to come out presently, very large 
and lustrous ; and I suppose, to the proper eye, full of 
poetry. By-and-by a silvery lightness fell on the 
landscape, and a little later, the white moon rose in a 
sapphire sky, revealing the haggard dreariness of the 
scene as clearly as if the time were noon-day. 

I got to my feet, and some strange birds that had 
their dwelling among the fastnesses of this desert 
flocked about me in evident curiosity: then flew 
away screaming at my invasion of their retreat. No 


IN THE HANDS OF THE CORSAIRS. 155 

other living creature did I see or hear. Too weak 
and drowsy to make any effort for succour, I crawled 
into a shady spot beneath the ledge of a great rock, 
and in spite of trouble and pain, soon fell asleep. 

I awoke near the dawn chilled to the bone, for the 
dewy night air in those parts is shrewd, and fallen 
together like an empty sack. The pain of my stom- 
ach was excruciating, being for all the world like a 
living, consuming flame in my inside. To the tor- 
tures of hunger, too, was now added the torture of 
thirst, and in all the black riven wilderness there was 
not a drop of water. More disheartening still, there 
was not a sign of human abode or occupation any- 
where to be seen. The temptation was strong to lie 
down and rest, but as that would be madness if I 
wanted to save my life, I staggered on once more, ig- 
norant of my direction, and in the last ebb of hope. 

Weary hours passed; hours full of indescribable 
agony of mind and body. The sun came out, a huge 
white-hot furnace, enveloped in a pale haze of its own 
heat. The earth blistered and cracked under my 
eyes; the rocks were scorching; it seemed as if fire 
and famine were blackening the land together. A 
slight wind blew, but it was the poisonous breath of 
the crater or sulphur-pit let loose to destroy. 

Gasping to suffocation, and dreading sun-stroke, I 
hid in a deep cleft ; here I lay a while in shade, but 
very soon the sun smote in upon me till the walls were 
like glowing iron. Crawling out, I sought another 
refuge which, in turn, became an oven, forcing me 
to change ; and so, for the best part of that day I went 
from place to place among the rocks seeking shade, 
and all the while getting fainter and more parched, 
from want of food and water. 

Late in the afternoon I resumed my march in sheer 
desperation. But it was woeful, heartbreaking work. 
I had got past the stage of acute pain from hunger, 
but the thirst was a worse agony than ever. Fortu- 
nately the hot, noxious wind had fallen about noon, 
so that I breathed more freely ; but it was still the 


156 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


struggle of a dying man. And, indeed, if relief did 
not come quickly I should soon cease to be in need of 
it. 

By degrees the country grew less barren and forbid- 
ding. Grass began to appear, at first in scanty brown 
patches, but gradually getting greener and more 
plentiful. This heartened me a bit, and ere long, to 
my infinite joy, I came upon a man herding a flock 
of goats in a little valley that nestled among the 
cliffs. 

He was mightily astonished at seeing me ; and his 
demeanour at first was none too friendly. But my 
wretched condition must have touched him, for when 
I came tottering and rolling down the slope to where 
he stood he stepped forward to meet me with words 
of pitying inquiry. I saluted briefly, and appealed 
to him in Heaven’s name to let me have drink or I 
should die. In an instant the Christian soul was 
vigourously milking his best goat. I watched till the 
skin was half full of the frothing, creamy milk, then, 
unable to forbear, I snatched it from him, and drank 
till I choked. After slaking myself I had some dates 
from his wallet, and felt wondrously revived. And 
for his charity he had as grateful thanks as ever came 
from the heart of a perishing man. 

When we came to talk I told him only such part3 
of my story as I thought he could understand. He 
was greatly amazed, breaking out into frequent ejac- 
ulations at the relation of Abram ben Aden’s treach- 
ery, and the pillaging of the pirates. 

“ And what is to become of thee?” he asked sud- 
denly. 

“Only God knows that,” I answered. “But if 
thou wilt add to thy goodness by directing me to the 
nearest town, I may perhaps find a way of returning 
to my own country.” 

This he gladly did, but before he would consent to 
my departure I had to take some more milk and dates. 
Nothing loth 1 feasted a second time, the goatherd 
joining me in token of good will. Then, with cere- 


STILL AT ODDS WITH FORTUNE. 


157 


monious embracings and many vows of amity, we 
parted. 

Rekindled hope is the best of all cordials. I had 
drunk of it and now pushed on a new man, reani- 
mated in body and in spirit. In two hours I was 
climbing a range of hills beyond which lay the town 
that happened also to be the capital of the province ; 
in an hour more I was on the top, and Moses, behold- 
ing the promised land, could not have gazed forward 
more wistfully. Pausing for a moment, my eyes 
shaded with my hand, I looked down upon a verdant 
plain, dotted here and there with dark palm groves, 
and the patriarchal flocks and herds of Arabia. On 
the farther side, embowered among clustering trees, 
was the town I wanted to reach. With a fluttering 
breast I went on again, bounding down the slopes al- 
most as joyously as if I were descending the steep 
braes above Glenrae. 


CHAPTER XIY. 

STILL AT ODDS WITH FORTUNE. 

I was soon swinging light-heartedly along in grateful 
shade, among the orchards and gardens and tinkling 
watercourses that skirted the town — a very Eden after 
the desert I had passed through. The people flocked 
about me as I went, some eying me with darkening 
brows, some regarding me with simple amazement, 
others of a deeper curiosity turning in their walk to 
follow me ; and I could hear them debating what kind 
of outlandish barbarian this could be, who had unac- 
countably found his way amongst them. I felt very 
much like a monster on exhibition for the entertain- 
ment of the vulgar and the idle : yet, remembering 
the necessity of prudence, I was at great pains to be 
civil. Salaaming and saluting incessantly, I invoked 
peace and the best blessings of Heaven on all and 
sundry ; but the marhabas or welcomes were disap- 


158 IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 

pointingly few. Had I known the full, significance 
of an Arab’s failure to return a salutation, I should 
probably have made more haste to get out of the town 
than I was now making to get into it. But igno- 
rance is a wondrous preserver of men’s spirits. 

Judging it best to refrain from asking questions, I 
pursued my way at a venture through squalid alleys 
that writhed and twisted like endless snakes, turning 
upon themselves in eternal windings and circlings, 
with the sole object, as it seemed, of bewildering and 
distracting. They led anywhere and everywhere; 
but dodged a definite conclusion, being thus no inapt 
emblem of the tortuous Asiatic mind. The scents 
were pungent, and of the kinds that make one fain to 
hold one’s nose. If these were the “ Sabean odours 
from the spicy shores of Araby the blest,” then let it 
be put on record that in spite of the mighty authority 
of Milton, Sabean odours are never likely to be popu- 
lar among people imbued with a prudent love of sani- 
tation or endowed with delicate nostrils. 

Packs of lean, hungry dogs, too, kept sniffing at 
my heels in a way that was sorely vexing. There 
are notoriously ill-conditioned dogs in Turkey and 
Greece — Constantinople swarms with them ; they are 
worse than the brigands in the ynountains of Attica. 
But of all the despicable, degenerate curs in exist- 
ence, the starveling hounds that prowl about Arabian 
towns are the basest and most degraded. Without 
owners, greedy partakers of all that is vile and for- 
bidden, “the filthiest beasts that banquet upon offal,” 
despised and maltreated, marauders b}^ inheritance 
and by necessity, they have long lost every vestige 
of canine morality. In contemplating an assault they 
do not bark at you, nor show their teeth: such 
honesty might put you on your guard. They sidle 
up to you with the averted look of incurable deprav- 
ity, pretending to take no notice of you, yet all the 
while carefully selecting the juiciest part of your leg. 
Even when they have selected their point of attack, 
they will not fly at it ; but wait patiently for their 


STILL AT ODDS WITH FORTUNE. 159 

opportunity. When it comes, presto, their fangs are 
in your calf, and they are off with their mouthful 
before you have time to turn. These brutes kept me 
continually with one eye over my shoulder, and the 
other down by my side, for I was ever afraid of the 
tooth of a dog. Sometimes the people made a pre- 
tence of remonstrating with them ; but I think there 
would have been less sorrow than gladness had I been 
worried to the bone. 

The squat box-like shops and bazaars were littered 
with a miscellany of goods exceedingly strange to 
European eyes. Variegated cloth, red and yellow 
slippers, saffron, sandal-wood, glass beads, mirrors, 
swords, files, razors, ropes, bells, saddles, butter and 
various nameless kinds of oil and grease used for 
anointing the head and body, water skins, coffee-pots, 
brazen pans and kettles, and many other stuffs and 
trumpery were strewn about in hopeless confusion. 
Standing by the doors, or sitting cross-legged on 
palm-leaf mats, in the midst of their wares, waiting 
with heavy eyes and languid mien for the customers 
who never appeared to come, were the merchants. 
One and all they stared hard at me, and most of them 
came into the street to look after me, with muttered 
guessings and comments. I have no doubt there 
were muttered curses as well. 

To my surprise, the orchards and gardens ran 
almost continuously into the centre of the town, and 
who would was apparently free to enter. In variety 
and richness they surpassed anything I had ever seen, 
and indeed seemed rather like the concentrated 
luxuriance of a whole country than the natural 
growth of a single spot. There were clumps of 
feathery date trees, Indian palms, pomegranates, 
orange, apple, apricot, peach, and fig trees. Another 
tree there was, too, more famous in Arabian 
song and story than any of these — the balm tree. 
Like so much that is good and famous, it is not 
beautiful; in fact, it is ugly and scraggy and, 
were the eye the sole judge, contemptible, but those 


160 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


who know its virtues think little of its mean appear- 
ance. 

In striking contrast to the dark olive foliage were 
the blazing tropical flowers, many of them of inex- 
pressible glory and brilliancy. But what touched me 
beyond anything else were some clusters of magnifi- 
cent roses that flung their fragrance on the air un- 
mindful of the general noisomeness, at times indeed, 
making one forget it. The sight of that common 
English flower, so familiar and so lovely, stirred the 
emotions as not all the splendours of the Orient could 
stir them. It was like the greeting of an old friend 
in a strange land. 

In some of the gardens people were drawing water 
from deep wells with leathern buckets, others scoop- 
ing it up from slender stone-rimmed watercourses. 
At sight of such plenty I began to get hungry and 
thirsty again, and so tempting was the fruit that 
presently I found myself meditating a robbery. But 
at every gate I decided to wait till I reached the next, 
and in this way, a thief at heart, an honest man 
from fear, I went along feasting my eyes, but griev- 
ously vexing the stomach, which protested evermore 
and more vigourously. It is an ill experience to be 
famishing in the midst of plenty. 

On turning one of the many street corners, full of 
the thought which most engages a hungry man, I 
entered a square in which was assembled a great 
crowd. A glance made it plain they were holiday- 
makers. In the midst was a man wearing, over the 
usual shirt, a gay parti -coloured mantle, and a scarlet 
vest with wide sleeves like a bishop’s gown. His 
head was fantastically enfolded in a flaming handker- 
chief, in the voluminous twists of which there were 
stuck three bobbing peacock-feathers. He was seated 
on a camel as gorgeously caparisoned as himself, and 
was shouting and gesticulating with many wild 
grimaces, the people responding to his sallies of wit 
and distortions of countenance with resounding 
bursts of merriment. 


STILL AT ODDS WITH FORTUNE. 161 

“A professional story-teller,” I said to myself, and 
it proved I was right. 

The fellow seemed master of his business, for all 
were eager and excited, save only the gaunt, sorrow- 
ful camel, which was sunk in a gloom no mirth could 
brighten. Perhaps, like harlequin, it was too 
familiar with jests to be much cheered by them. I 
had not watched the performance more than a minute 
when the clown noticed me. He stared for a second 
in amazement, but quickly recovering the professional 
insolence, he pointed a leering finger at me, calling 
upon the assemblage to look at the rare curiosity that 
had opportunely appeared for their entertainment. 
Like one man they wheeled about and fastened their 
eyes upon me. 

At this I turned quickly on my heel to walk off, 
considering it the safest policy to get out of the way 
with as much speed and as little fuss as possible. 
But the story-teller hurling a stinging gibe at me 
about my courage — a quality I would let no man 
make a jest of with impunity — I turned again and 
faced the throng, my heart already beginning to bristle 
in my breast. There was a moment’s silence, then 
the buffoon on the camel began a running commen- 
tary on my looks, my dress, and spirit, enlivening 
his remarks with witticisms that made very free with 
my feelings, and sent the listeners — all save one — 
into convulsions of laughter. He capped his insults 
and insolences by inviting his audience to step for- 
ward and examine me for themselves. The next 
minute they had formed a ring about me, taking 
care, however, to keep some distance off, as if I 
might be an animal of uncertain temper. But a 
perky youth, in rich cloak and many-coloured sashes, 
eager to set an example in temerity, and make sport 
for his fellows, ran up and probed me in the ribs 
with his riding-stick. 

It was wonderful how the old fiery spirit of retalia- 
tion came back on me. Quicker than thought I 
whipped out my pistol and covered the fellow’s head. 

11 


162 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


He ducked, dodged, and disappeared like magic. 
Disappointed at his celerity in getting out of sight I 
took aim at the clown. He, too, had an antipathy to 
such target practice, and, like a flash, was off his 
camel and hiding among the crowd, A thrilling 
pause followed as the people, fallen silent, stared in 
wonder at me, then at one another, then at the camel 
standing as saturnine and stupid-looking as ever, ap- 
parently quite unconscious of its master’s sudden de- 
sertion. 

Satisfied with having frightened my molesters, and 
anxious to prove my pacific intentions towards the 
company in general, I returned the pistol to my belt. 
Seeing this the chap-fallen story-teller sneaked back 
for his beast, taking care as he led it off to keep its 
body between him and me. The crowd hesitated a 
moment, as if uncertain which performer to patron- 
ize, then went trooping after the clown in evident ex- 
pectation of further diversion elsewhere. My im- 
pulse was to follow and spoil the fun ; but, remember- 
ing the discretion which is the better part of valour, 
I turned aside and went in another direction. 

I had not gone a hundred yards when I felt a gen- 
tle touch on the arm, and, looking round, found at 
my side an elderly Arab of venerable and benignant 
aspect. As my eyes met his he bowed with a cordial 
gravity and held out his open hand. Glad to find any 
one so friendly I also bowed and laid my open palm in 
his, waiting for him to speak. 

“ I was in the midst of the concourse when the jest- 
er derided thee and made the people laugh,” he began 
in a kindly tone, “ I saw thee pull out thy weapon and 
aim at the fool who smote thee with his riding stick, 
and I trembled for thy safety, for assuredly liadst thou 
slain him thine own blood had watered the ground. 
When the jester slunk away and the peoplo followed 
I hastened after thee to speak with thee, and if thou 
be in need of aught I possess, now of a surety it is 
thine. If thou art an hungered thou shalt eat, if thou 
art thirsty thou shalt drink, if thou art weary thou 


STILL AT ODDS WITH FORTUNE. 163 

shalt wash thy feet and rest. Said Achmet hath him- 
self been a wanderer, and knoweth the distress of a 
stranger in a strange land.” 

Greatly surprised, though thrilling with joy and 
gratitude, I replied, “ I am indeed a stranger in a 
strange land, cast on the shore like driftwood, to be 
tossed and made the sport of fate. But thy kindness 
puts new spirit in me.” 

“Art thou hungry?” he asked, looking in my 
face. 

“Hungry, thirsty, and spent,” I answered. 

“Come with me, my son,” said the Arab, gra- 
ciously. “ I would fain know who and what thou 
art, and how thou earnest hither, where I doubt if 
any man of thy nation ever set foot before. But 
long tales fit not a craving stomach. When thou 
hast eaten and rested, perad venture thou wilt tell me 
thy story.” 

He led the way, I walking by his side in silence, 
for it is contrary to Arabian etiquette to make a tired 
man answer questions. We wound for a long dis- 
tance through circling streets, then turned aside under 
the shadow of clustering palms into a small but lux- 
uriant garden, fragrant with flowers and musical with 
babbling water. From the garden to the house was 
but a step. 

A black slave met us as we entered, and, at a word 
from his master, brought a pile of cushions to the 
Khawah, or reception-room, for me, placing them 
near the stove, which is the place of honour. Then, 
bringing water, he took off my shoes and washed my 
feet, a piece of attention that was strange but exceed- 
ingly refreshing. After a while came the food. This 
consisted of a large piece of boiled mutton, a kind of 
batter made of ground wheat and melted butter, boiled 
rice, fresh dates, figs, sour camel’s milk, and coffee — 
from the best Arabian beny, that never by any chance 
comes to Western lands. The abomination that de- 
luded Englishmen gulp down as coffee an Arab me- 
nial would not deign to put to his lips. The truth is 


164 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


that the untravelled Briton never sees, not real 
Mocha, because it is a thing of the past, but the choice 
fruit of the coffee tree ; what passes with him as such 
is only the refuse of all the plantations of Arabia (and 
often of plantations outside Arabia) gathered in the 
interest of shippers, and greatly to the prejudice of 
occidental palates and stomachs. The pale flavour- 
less berries sent to Western Europe and America are 
to the rich, brown, aromatic berries valued by East- 
ern peoples what the sour crab-apple is to the luscious 
nectarine. Yet the swells of London and Paris drink 
the muddy mixture served to them as coffee with 
symptoms of delight. Truly ignorance has its enjoy- 
ments and consolations. As for myself, my nose 
never comes over a cup of the English preparation 
without causing me a spasm of disgust. 

The meal was all brought in together heaped on one 
huge wooden trencher, and what had been on the fire 
was eaten scalding hot with the fingers, for the Arabs 
scorn the frivolity of knives and forks. I found no 
difficulty whatever in reverting to the methods of 
Adam. The batter I could make nothing of, since it 
was like putty in my hands, and the mutton seemed 
none too cleanly dressed ; but on the rice and fruit 
I fell with the furious zeal of a famishing man, be- 
ing indeed as empty as a dry well. 

The meal finished, literally finished, for Arab hos- 
pitality enjoins that a guest shall eat while a morsel 
remains, we washed our hands, an operation that was 
highly necessary, and went into the garden to smoke, 
the pipe of peace under the umbrageous cover of date 
palms. 

I cannot express the luxury of reclining in that ver- 
durous scene watching the sun descending to “his 
chambers” in the west. Put mind and body at rest 
after racking both ; let fruits and blossoms and green 
masses of foliage take the place of a baked and blasted 
wilderness ; after a raging fever of thirst let water 
splash and sparkle in fountain and stream ; instead of 
torrid noxious blasts let 


STILL AT ODDS WITH FORTUNE. 


165 


“ Gentle gales 

Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense 
Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole 
Those balmy spoils, ” 

and above all, let a sense of human cordiality and 
sympathy replace the distress of the outcast, and you 
may dimly conceive my feelings of quiet joy and deep 
content. Everything was in unison with my mood 
— from the mystic splendours of the encircling moun- 
tains to the soft beauty and incense of the golden mel- 
lowy groves close at hand. We spoke not a word, 
for the Arab has more wisdom than to interrupt the 
sensuous enjoyment of the kayf* by talk. In deli- 
cious silence we saw the gold waning, and the rose 
flushing, and mountain, plain, and tree shining with 
a shifting glory that was like an effluent flood of light 
and colour from the open doors of Heaven. Then 
down dropped the sun, darkness rushed upon the land, 
and we went inside. Said Achmet lost no time in 
reminding me of the promise to tell my story. 

He listened to it with the immovable countenance 
of the sphinx, sucking quietly at his pipe, his eyes 
fast on the ground. When the recital was over he 
raised his face to mine. 

“Thou hast been in great peril, my son,” he said, 
“ and such as thou never couldst have escaped except 
the hand of God were with thee. Of a surety thou 
art reserved for some great work.” 

I asked him if he had any idea who and what the 
men were who had plundered and fired the brig, and 
almost truculently he answered — 

“ Dogs and thieves and murderers, and, if it be 
possible, worse. I know them, the evil offspring of 
Cain. They have had their polluting hands on me — 
they have made me suffer. Their deeds reek with 
iniquity. They are men, look you, whose heads 

* Kayf, intoxicating and passive delight ; “ the troubles 
of conversation, the displeasures of memory, and the vanity 
of thought,” are held to be unpleasant interruption of the 
kayf. 


1G6 


IN THE HAY OF BATTLE. 


should not be on their shoulders ; that is it. But let 
us not talk of such vile dogs ; it is not good ; it pollut- 
eth the mouth to name them.” 

Finding him so strangely moved I was at a loss 
how to proceed, but at a venture I inquired the name 
of the town. 

“ The city is called Marabel,” he rejoined. “ Thou 
shalt know it all. It is not so mighty a city as Bom- 
bay; neither is it so rich. Yet it is a famous place 
and we are ruled by a great prince. It will please 
me to present thee to him. But perchance I ma} 7 in- 
quire what thou meanest to do?” 

“ How can the driftwood cast on the beach know 
what the next wave will do with it?” I answered. 

He smoked a little more thoughtfully at this, as if 
he were pondering something. 

“We are a people by ourselves,” he remarked, 
slowly, after the space of a minute. “ For ages, too 
many to be numbered, we have been what thou seest 
us. I have travelled. I know what changes are in 
other parts of the earth; but we change not, 
save to go from youth to age, from our mother’s care 
to the darkness of the grave. As the son is so was 
the father, and so the father’s father, even to the 
generations afar off when the patriarch Abraham 
built the Holy House of Mecca; and Job, after mani- 
fold sufferings, was enriched for keeping his soul’s 
integrity, and numbered the increase of his flocks and 
herds and gathered the overflowing gold and silver 
from his threshing-floors — gold from that which was 
for wheat, and silver from that which was for barley.* 
The children of Ishmael have been the same since the 
beginning, like- the sun and the moon and the stars. 
Yonder hills, my son, have yielded more to time than 
the seed of Hagar, and the sea has been further 
moved from its place than they. As a people we 

*The Arabs believe that Abraham built the Caaba, and 
that after proving the righteousness of Job, God sent two 
clouds which rained gold and silver on his threshing floors 
till they ran over. 


STILL AT ODDS WITH FORTUNE. 1G7 

abide by ourselves. No ships go from hence to far 
lands; wherefore if thou desirest to return to thine 
own country it may be hard for thee. And I grieve 
to tell thee that sojourning has many perils — for my 
people are incensed against the face of a stranger. 
Three moons have not passed since an Egyptian spy 
was slain and torn asunder in a public place, and the 
1 blood of a Persian, who came seeking what was not 
his, is yet wet on the ground. Yet let not these 
things dismay thee. I know an evil countenance 
when I see it ; thine pleads for thee, therefore shalt 
thou abide with me. Moreover, a man of thy nation 
once gave me my life. It would be a long tale to 
tell, but I remember it to his race for ever. For all 
these things tarry with me for a time, and while I 
have store thou shalt not want. And if thine ears are 
open to counsel there is one thing more I would say.” 

“ Speak,” I said earnestly. “ If thy wisdom equal 
thy goodness it will indeed be well with me if 1 at- 
tend to thy counsel.” 

“Mortal knoweth not what may come to pass,” 
said the Arab, solemnly ; “ only God and His holy 
Prophet. This, then, is my counsel : that thou make 
thyself as one of us. Already, to my astonishment, 
thou art master of our tongue. As thou canst be an 
Arab in speech be one also in apparel. Thus far 
honour our country, and be assured it will stand to 
thee. ” 

“ It shall be as thou wilt,” I answered. 

Said Achmet got to his feet with an eager smile. 

“ Good,” he cried. “ See if I make not as likely a 
follower of the Prophet of thee as the best of them. ” 

Whereupon he began hastily to search out the 
clothes that were to effect my transformation. 

He was fastidious in having me orthodoxly arrayed. 
My long shirt was spotless white, my turban was of 
fine yellow silk, nry mantle was black and gold, a 
gorgeous scarlet sash, that would fitly have adorned 
a queen, encircled my waist, and my naked feet were 
put in costly sandals. 


1G8 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


“ By my faith, as genuine a child of the desert as 
ever I set eyes on,” exclaimed Said Achmet, when I 
was habited in my flowing robes. “ But one thing 
thou yet lackest.” 

He ran into an inner room and brought forth a 
small silver-hilted sword, supported by a richly 
wrought, variegated belt of camel’s hair and leather, 
set off with silver edgings. 

“ Thou shalt wear this,” he said warmly. “ It once 
belonged to the head of the Faith himself, and never 
before dangled by the side of an infidel. Nay, 
nay; what said I? Thou wilt pardon the unthinking 
haste of the tongue. Not an infidel, an alien; that 
is to say, a stranger such as thou art. ” 

Partly to cover his confusion, partly to show the 
heartiness of his friendship, he insisted on investing 
me with the badge of honour himself. 

“Fit to be a sheik, by the glories of Al-Raschid,” 
he said, stepping back in admiration when he had 
buckled on the weapon. “ I tell thee that great are 
the swordsmith and the maker of garments. Who 
conferreth distinction like them? Thou art no longer 
as straddling tongs. Thou hast the grace of the 
waving palm; thou bendest as the willow by the 
brook. On a war-horse thou wouldst be the bravest 
of warriors; yea, and in the shadow of the court, in 
the place of judgment, who could so fitly deliver 
laws? In every line and look of thee, save mayhap in 
the fairness of thy face, thou art a son of Ishmael. 
And the Arabian sky will quickly take that fair cast 
out of thee; then of a truth thou shalt be as our- 
selves.” 

He walked deliberately round me, noting with 
words and beams of delight each point of resemblance 
to the true-born Arab. He could not enough admire, 
though I suspect his pleasure in my galllant equip- 
ment w T as due rather to his own share in it than to 
the dignity or naturalness with which I carried it. 
Suddenly he got grave. 

“ Thou remindest me of them I would fain have 


STILL AT ODDS WITH FORTUNE. 169 

about me,” he said, with something of a sigh. As 
if to explain his change of manner he added, “ I had 
three sons. One sleepeth beneath the green waves 
that bore thee hither; one lieth deep under sands 
heaped upon him by the fingers of the lone desert 
wind. The third is even now doing battle, or it may 
be he hath gone the way of his brothers. My heart 
is solitary at the thought that I may never look on 
him again. And thou art so like him. He resem- 
bled thee in youth, in suppleness, in bearing, in good- 
liness of appearance ; his eye had the hardihood of 
thine, and his arm the same readiness to strike.” 

His comparisons were cut short by an imperative 
knocking at the door, which replaced his look of sad- 
ness by one of alarm. 

“What meaneth this?” he said with bated breath, 
as he bent his ear to hearken. 

The knock was almost instantly repeated with an 
added imperiousness and emphasis. 

“It must be a summons from the Prince,” he said, 
glancing at me with an expression of anxiety as he 
rose to meet his visitors. 

It was as he suspected. A dozen of the castle 
guards, armed to the teeth, clustered about the door, 
and it was evident they were excited. Said Achmet 
endeavoured to temporize, but he was peremptorily 
ordered to stand aside; and the men, with weapons 
drawn, pushed past him. Without a word they 
seized me and began dragging me towards the door. 
The idea of resistance comes strong upon one handled 
so unceremoniously without cause, and I had swift 
thoughts of trying the quality of Said Achmet ’s sil- 
ver-hilted sword. He perceived the danger and 
rushed to my side. 

“ As thou valuest thy life, resist not,” he whispered 
hurriedly. “ The Prince has sent them to take thee. 
Go, and rely on my aid.” 

In the grip of a dozen armed fanatics it would in- 
deed have been folly to make opposition. So, merely 
begging that I might be permitted to take my green bag 


170 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


I quietly suffered myself to be thrust into the midst of 
a bristling clump of spears. The greatest malefactor 
on earth could not have been more jealously guarded 
or more ignominiously hustled. I had just one word 
of encouragement. In passing through the door I 
got a whisper from Said Achmet that he would be at 
the castle by sunrise on the morrow to testify in my 
favour. His meaning was not clear, but it was solac- 
ing to have even one friend at so dubious a juncture. 

The winds seemed to bear intelligence of my arrest. 
No sooner had we quitted the garden than we were 
in a clamouring crowd, bearing links that shed a gro- 
tesque and lurid light on the strange scene. As I 
knew that in Arab towns the inhabitants are rarely 
abroad after sunset, the demonstration was proof of 
unusual, indeed of extraordinary commotion. That 
I was the cause of it was speedily manifest. 

The people pressing about us, speculated aloud on 
the doom that was in store for me, and their auguries 
were anything but cheering. What was more dis- 
quieting they once or twice showed a disposition to 
take matters into their own hands ; if they had done 
that I have a notion this history would never have 
been written. As I listened to their shoutings and 
mutterings I had a very vivid remembrance of Saidj 
Achmet’s tale of the Egyptian and Persian. 

“ Here may be the very place where they were 
killed,” I thought to myself as we went along. “ Here 
their blood may have been poured out; these walls 
may have echoed their dying groans.” And some- 
times, in sudden flares and sweeps of the torches, the 
crimsoned ground had gruesome suggestions of vio- 
lent deeds and untimely ends. 

On reaching the castle walls — which were surpris- 
ingly thick — we entered through a narrow gateway, 
flanked with towers, to a sort of esplanade crowded 
with soldiers. Then we entered an outer court, pass- 
ing through another narrow gate to an inner. This 
also we traversed. Then we passed through several 
crooked corridors till we came to a gap in a dea,d 


ON TRIAL FOR MY LIFE. 


171 


wall. Into this I was thrust. A door was banged 
and bolted behind me, and I was alone in utter dark- 
ness. A moment’s groping proved I was in a win- 
dowless dungeon — probably a condemned cell. 


CHAPTER XV. 

ON TRIAL FOR MY LIFE. 

Huddled in a foul hole, which admitted neither 
light nor air, I tried to imagine what might be the 
outcome of this fresh entanglement. One thing 
seemed certain, that I was to be kept fast under bolts 
for the night. It seemed equally certain that in the 
morning, if a pestilential air did not finish me in the 
meantime, I should be led forth to a mock trial, and 
convicted by overwhelming evidence of uncommitted 
crimes, for I knew the ingenuity of the Asiatic mind 
in contriving plots and charges. What would follow 
— the judgment and form of execution — were matters 
that could be foretold with disquieting accuracy. It 
was a pinch at which a wise man would have be- 
taken himself to his prayers, in anticipation of cross- 
ing the dark bourne, and even the most obdurate 
sinners have thought of the good policy of repentance. 

The prospect, however, gave me less concern than 
might be imagined. Assuredly Fortune was using 
her teeth and claws upon me with implacable malev- 
olence. But her persecutions were beginning to lose 
something of their poignancy. Like a vain woman, 
Fortune loves to show her power, and, like a meddle- 
some one, she must have a finger in every man’s pie, 
making it sweet or sour according to her whim and 
humour. But when one has, as the poet puts it, 
looked on his own funeral procession, he may smile 
at her efforts to inflict pain. He is then getting be- 
yond her range. To that stage of apathy I was fast 
approaching. 

The ignominy of the thing troubled me most. To 


172 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


die once is the fate of all, and death, as wise men have 
ever taught, may be made glorious. But to be shut 
up in a hole like a rat and then probed out to be wor- 
ried by bloodthirsty hounds, is not to close the fifth 
act of one’s play with any dignity or glory. If they 
would only put a proper sword in my hand, then I 
might leave my memory green, and furnish a tale 
worth telling to their grandchildren. 

In spite of what has been said, I must not boast of 
a mind at ease, for when at length outwearied nature 
claimed her boon of sleep, I was constantly starting 
up with a throbbing heart and a clammy brow. To 
be rid of the plaguing dreams, I decided at last to keep 
awake; as the best means of doing that I crept about 
the cell, entertaining myself first by guessing its di- 
mensions, and then by feeling its walls inch by inch 
with my hands. This diversion lasted but a little i 
while, and then I fell back on my own thoughts. If 
I was in durance, they, at least, were free enough, j 
With the vagary and volatility which have ever dis- 
tinguished them, even in the midst of pressing perils, 
they flew to other days, to old scenes and familiar 
faces. Time reversed his movement; the past be- 
came the present ; dead things started into life, and 
the absent and the distant were brought near. Every 
brae and bush about Glenrae, every bend of the road, 
every burn, almost every tuft of heather, every dear 
figure, my father, my mother, old Duncan, and the 
rest rose before me with the vividness of reality. Sir 
Thomas Gordon, with his brown face, was there too, 
and so was Isabel, looking as I had so often seen her, 
with her melting eyes and her abundance of glossy 
hair. I trembled with a feeling, half of joy, half of 
superstitious awe, as I looked from one to another of 
the visionary company. It was pleasant to see them 
all as of old; should I ever see them again? The 
meeting was gladsome, but would it be the last? 

In some agitation of mind I rose, and my foot struck 
against the green bag. It was an electric link con- 
necting me in very reality with those of whom I was 


ON TRIAL FOR MY LIFE. 


173 


thinking. I picked it up, drew forth the pipes, hur- 
riedly tuned them, and the next instant was playing 
Highland airs with might and main. Very weird", 
and strange, and thrilling sounded the music of my 
native hills in that close subterranean cell, thrilling 
as the grasp of a friend in the da} 7 of adversity, 
strange as the Gaelic speech amid Arabian sands. I 
played till I knew no fear, and forgot all danger, till 
there rose within me a spirit of resistance that would 
have defied the united power of all the Caliphs from 
Abu Bekr to Mustassim.* My jailers beat upon the 
door with the butts of their muskets to demand si- 
lence, but they might as well have whistled to the 
charging lion. Heedless of their pounding, indeed 
scarcely hearing it, I played on, the wild slogan of the 
clans almost bursting the walls asunder. Faster and 
faster danced the fingers of the piper, ever more and 
more furious swelled the strains that never yet failed 
to give the strength of ecstasy to a Highlander. It 
was the pipes that won Waterloo, that saved Luck- 
now, that broke the Russian swoop at Balaclava. On 
reeking fields of gore their scream has made men for- 
get death, and banished the thought of yielding. 
What they had done in the stress and havoc of battle 
they were now doing in solitariness and darkness. 
With their music in my ears I could dare anything. 

All at once the door opened, and a reflection of far- 
away sunshine dribbled freely in. A band of grisly 
warriors stood without, grasping their weapons, and 
bearing countenances on which there was a singular 
mingling of ferocity, distrust, and apprehension. 

“ Come forth,” said one, stepping a little in advance 
of his fellows. “ The great Abou Kuram waiteth to 
hear the charges against thee.” 

For half a second I held my breath, wavering 
whether or not to put up my pipes. Then, with a 
fierce gathering of all the defiant elements of my na- 
ture (and I have been told they are neither few nor 

* The first and last of the real Caliphs. L T nder the Mame- 
lukes there were, properly speaking, no Caliphs. 


174 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


trifling), I blew again, harder than ever, and swept 
forth, my chanter discoursing so bravely that the 
Arabs fell back with their fingers hard in their ears. 
Perhaps it was out of charity, or it may have been 
from fear to meddle with a thing so unearthly, but 
the guards suffered me to have my own way, and I 
took it like a gamester who ventures his last frail 
chance with a light and brazen confidence, as if ruin 
were to be averted by levity. 

We passed along darksome, devious passages of 
treacherous suggestion, then through an open cir- 
cular court, whence we had a glimpse of enormous 
walls stoutly bastioned and buttressed, and of massive 
towers flanking arched gateways, then into another 
large court surrounded by balconies. All the while 
I blew with unabated defiance and independence, 
much to the amazement of the assembled people, and 
to the obvious terror of not a few who clearly regarded 
the skirling of the pipes as the screeching of evil spir- 
its. My tune on entering was the “ Highland Lad- 
die,” and a very singular figure I must have cut, with 
my bandaged head, my puffed cheeks, and trailing 
garments. I had a fantastic feeling of being a sec- 
ond Macpherson, marching victoriously to death to 
my own quick-step, and I dare say the bit of bravado 
sustained me. It had, at least, the good effect of keep- 
ing me from thinking too much ; for thought at such 
times is no upholder of courage. 

Though it was yet little past the dawn, the court, 
wasdensely thronged with citizens and soldiers, for the 
Arabs are abroad with the sun. On a raised seat fac- 
ing the entrance sat the Prince, benches of stone and 
beaten earth that ran round the sides were occupied 
by courtiers, castle officials, and the more prominent 
citizens, while the common people and the soldiery, 
some with bristling arms, and some without, elbowed 
each other to find standing room as best they could. 

Marching with my proudest step into the centre, I 
abruptly ceased playing, and saluted my judge. He 
did not return my salute, but, sitting motionless as a 


ON TRIAL FOR MY LIFE. 175 

statue, watched me with sharp eyes and contracted 
brows. 

For an Arab he was uncommonly handsome. In 
the prime of life, he was tall, broad-chested, clean 
featured, and bore himself with the imperial mien of 
the Caesars. His hair was jet black, his eyes, also 
black, were as keen as the falcon’s, and more deter- 
mined, and his countenance in general expressed 
haughtiness and inflexible resolution. Just then it 
was inauspiciously severe. 

He was arrayed with regal splendour. Over a 
gleaming white shirt he wore a Cashmere robe richly 
embroidered by the artists of Delhi, and above that 
again, a small, delicately worked cloak of camel’s 
hair — a distinction reserved for sheiks and princes 
alone. His tasselled turban was of the finest red and 
yellow silk, gorgeously brocaded, and was fastened 
by a fillet of camel’s hair inwoven with gold and 
silver, and blazing with precious stones. His leather 
girdle, worked with gold and set with brilliants, sup- 
ported a gold-hilted sword and a steel and ivory han- 
dled dagger flashing with jewels and embossed and 
inlaid with the precious metal. His feet were in 
crimson slippers, on which were bound elaborately 
decorated sandals. 

There was an uncomfortable silence as he examined 
me minutely from head to foot. On both sides of 
him sat his ministers, ugly, crafty, pitiless-looking 
dogs, with a sort of grin of expectation on their 
faces ; but none dared to disturb the Prince’s scrutiny. 
Presently he gave a signal and without a word the 
guards pushed me closer to him. For a moment he 
scrutinized me again, and his eyes had in them the 
leaping lights of a hawk’s when it bends over its prey. 

“ Thou hast the face of a Christian, an infidel, and 
the garb of an Arab, a believer,” he said sharply, at 
length. “ How cometh it?” 

“My lord,” I replied, with a profound bow, “a 
generous and charitable man of this town bestowed 
these clothes upon thy servant. ” 


176 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


“ His charity was ill at ease, methinks. What is 
his name?” 

I hesitated, not wishing to compromise Said 
Achmet. 

“ Thou wilt find it best to be quick with thy an- 
swers,” said Abou Kuram, sternly. 

“ His name,” I replied, ‘‘is Said Achmet.” 

“ Said Achmet !” he repeated in surprise. “ Thou 
meanest to tell me Said Achmet sheltered and clothed 
thee?” 

“ He succoured thy servant when he was in need,” 

I answered humbly. 

“Go,, bring Said Achmet,” he called out. “By 
my word we will see into this matter of harbouring 
strangers.” 

Three men instantly bent themselves to the earth, 
and hurried off, to arrest my benefactor. 

“ Whence comest thou, and what is thy business?” 
he asked, turning to me again, and looking rather 
through me, than at me. 

As briefly and succinctly as possible, I told him 
my tale. 

His lip curled, and his eyes danced as he listened. 

“ It is a likely story,” he remarked sternly, when 
I had finished. “ How comest thou, an utter stranger, 
and as thou sayest with no desire to come hither, to 
speak our tongue?” 

I told him of the tuition of Abram ben Aden. 

“Thou seest yonder tower,” he said significantly. 
“ It is not many days since it was adorned with the' 
head of a spy who added lying to his other virtues.” 

“As my lord liveth, I speak the truth,” I returned 
earnestly, for it was a hardship that my proficiency as 
a linguist should stand against me. 

“ Never liar yet, but was as true as the Prophet. 
Thine own ears shall hear the confirmation of thy 
words.” 

Whereupon he called the witnesses. They ap- 
peared in appalling numbers, with appalling testi- 
mony, delivered with the glibness and assurance of 


ON TRIAL FOR MY LIFE. 177 

actors who had well conned their parts. I had anti- 
cipated much; the reality was beyond my wildest 
conception, beyond anything, indeed, that the slug- 
gish Western imagination could conceive. Speech- 
less with amazement and horror I heard the damning 
evidence heaped up that would have convicted with 
a jury sworn to acquit. At times I was almost 
moved to indignation at my own villainy ; for I had 
difficulty in remembering that I was the scoundrel 
depicted, so atrocious above all belief were the 
crimes I had committed. Never did odious rogue 
swing from gibbet or yard-arm, or dangle from 
castle wall with half the felonies on his head that I 
bore. 

I was the emissary of a hostile power scheming to 
conquer and enslave. I had been caught spying by 
honourable and respectable men, whose word was as 
far above suspicion as Csesar’s wife. I had sought 
entrance to the castle in order to assassinate the 
Prince my judge, and so clear the way to the throne 
for a foreign usurper. Failing in that, I had tried to 
bribe others to do the foul deed, and the actual 
money I had given was exhibited by the recipients. 
These and other enormities far above any ordinary 
capacity for crime were triumphantly brought home 
to me. There could not be the shadow of a doubt 
that I was a rare monster of wickedness, a disgrace 
to the species, and assuredly deserving the cruelest 
death that judge and executioner could devise. 

The clown appeared against me with proof of guilt 
sufficient to hang ten honest men, and the imperti- 
nent youth on whom I had drawn backed him up 
with a readiness and resource that I must have ad- 
mired had he not chanced to be swearing away my 
life. After them trooped half the population, each 
with a darker tale and clearer demonstrations of felony 
than the other. It was wonderful how one man could 
have sinned so much, how one head could have 
planned and plotted so much wickedness. Long be- 
fore my accusers were finished I was loaded with a 
12 


178 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


mass of iniquity and infamy, sufficient to drag a 
score of saints to the uttermost deeps of perdition. 

My judge had an easy task. He had to determine 
no question of guilt or innocence, no delicate balan- 
cing of points was demanded of him; he had simply 
to decide what should be done to an infamous wretch 
who should be defrauded of his deserts by hanging, 
beheading, drawing and quartering. 

Abou Kuram did not move a muscle during the 
fateful recital. Sitting with clenched lips and droop- 
ing lids he scarcely seemed to hear. But when the 
pitch was exhausted, and I could not possibly be made 
blacker, he turned on me the face of victory. 

“Art thou satisfied with the testimony?” he asked 
grimly. “Thou seemest a man of much integrity. 
Of a very truth thou art a pretty fellow.” 

“My lord,” I blurted, with a gulp, for in spite of 
my early bravado the sweat of terror was now break- 
ing upon me, “ my lord, they are liars, every one. ” 

“And thou alone speakest truth. Yea, that is 
likely. Thou couldst not lie were all thy interests 
clamouring for a falsehood. And thy heart is as 
good as thy tongue is true. Thou hast been at the 
pains to learn our language, and hast faced perils in 
coming hither, and put on our clothes, and spied and 
plotted out of a pure desire to befriend us. Thou art 
a very prodigy of goodness. Thy secret plannings 
and bribings are all for our welfare. Thou yearnest 
to do good by stealth.” 

For the first time he laughed, and it was a laugh to 
curdle the blood. When the judge cackles in irony 
the- prisoner may well quake. 

Quickly recovering his austerity of manner he 
looked me over with eyes that penetrated to the core 
of my being. 

“ Doubtless, some one is present to testify to that 
goodness thou display est so strangely,” he said. 

In my bewilderment I had forgotten Said Achmet, 
but now I turned anxiously to seek his friendly face. 
A chill went to my heart as I searched the crowd in 


ON TRIAL FOR MY LIFE. 

vain. He had not come; he would be too late. But 
just as I was about to break out into an incoherent 
protestation of innocence, in despair of a favourable 
word, there was a movement among the people, and 
my witness entered between his guards. Advancing 
with respectful bearing to the front he made a low 
obeisance, and stood with bent head and body to hear 
the Prince’s pleasure. 

“ I thought,” remarked Abou Kuram, very slowly, 
“that Said Achmet was of those we could call 
friends.” 

“ There liveth not a man this day who could wish 
my lord better,” returned Said Achmet, in a low but 
fervent voice. 

“ Yet thou givest refuge to spies and enemies of 
the State.” 

“ Heaven forbid thy servant should do such a 
thing.” 

“ But thou hast done it.” 

Said Achmet’s eyes nearly started from his head. 

“ My lord but jesteth,” he said, after a pause, dur- 
ing which he scarcely breathed. 

“ My faith, ’tis a jest that may cost thee thy head,” 
answered Ahou Kuram. “ Look on this fellow and 
tell me what thou knowest of him.” 

Said Achmet briefly related the circumstances of 
our meeting and his reasons for taking me in and 
giving me clothes. 

“Thou art a man of honour, Said Achmet,” ob- 
served the Prince, “ but thy pity hath blinded thee. 
Dost thou know aught else of him?” 

Said Achmet in a few sentences repeated the tale 
of misfortune I had told him, Abou Kuram listening 
with palpable irritation and contempt. 

“ I doubt not he had trouble in getting hither,” said 
the Prince, “ and the reason for his coming may be 
judged by his readiness to endure dangers and hard- 
ships. Thinkestthou it was for sport he encountered 
those perils by sea and land, or from a wish to do 
thee and me a favour? In spite of thy years and thy 


180 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


wanderings thou art but a babe, Said Achmet. A 
feigning tongue imposeth on thee, and tbou art 
moved by the woe of the deceitful. Hast thou never 
yet learned that words are easy as the wind, and 
ofteu as false. This fellow hath come to spy, and the 
wages of the spy is death. Thou mayst go in free- 
dom, Said Achmet, but another time see thou let not 
thy compassion make a fool of thy judgment. Me- 
thinks it is time thou wert learning to discern be- 
tween friend and foe.” 

Said Achmet, again bowing profoundly, retired 
without a word. As he went out our eyes met for a 
moment, and the look he gave me was full of com- 
passion. It was but a glance, yet it seemed to ex- 
press as plain as words could the sorrowful conviction 
that I was beyond hope or help. The intelligence 
struck me with something of the cold dismay which 
the refusal of an expected pardon might bring to a 
man sentenced to be shot or hanged. 

“ Is there any one else to speak for him?” demanded 
Abou Kuram, in a loud voice. 

The crowd swaying violently, craned its neck for 
an answer. None came, and the judge turned to me. 

“ Thou canst not be old,” he said, surveying me for 
the fiftieth time. “ Thy face hath the bloom and the 
comeliness of youth, yet already thine acts reek 
with iniquity, yea, they are as carrion to the *nos- 
trils. Under what master thou hast learned thy 
guile and how thou hast the heart to practise it, I 
know not, but thou art a match for the hoariest 
headed transgressor alive. We have had some of 
th}^ kind here lately, and they did not return to 
the place whence they came. Thou hast heard the 
tale of thine iniquities; what thinkest thou is thy 
due?” 

Before I could give any opinion in the matter — in- 
deed my tongue was not at all ready — one of the men 
seated on Abou Kuram’s right interpolated. 

“ A needless question, my lord. Cast him to the 
dogs, and let them tear him alive. Then let his 


ON TRIAL FOR MY LIFE. 


181 


gnawed head be perched on the topmost tower as a 
warning to spies and other malefactors.” 

He was a leather-faced rascal, with small deep-set 
eyes, very close together, the mouth and jaws of a 
bloodhound, and the shifting sinister expression of 
the hyena. 

There are brave and elegant gentlemen, adventur- 
ous, kid-gloved, satin-waistcoated heroes, who can 
dispose of the fear of death in an epigram. Un- 
luckil}" for myself I am not so happily constituted, 
and it was with* a sudden chill of blood and marrow 
that I now turned to the minister. The hate of hell 
was in his lowering fanatical face; the spirit that 
makes the Moslem a fiend in the fray ; that impels him 
to cut out an enemy’s living heart and stamp its 
quivering life under foot; that in jealousy, anger, 
revenge, or statecraft makes him subtle, crafty, ruth- 
less, diabolic, an instigator of foul deeds, a secret as- 
sassin or an open murderer as the occasion may re- 
quire — such a spirit gleamed sullenly from every 
lineament of the minister’s cruel and repulsive vis- 
age. Crouching there, his hand upon his crooked 
sword, he watched me as if he fain would spring 
forward and cleave me on the spot. His hideous 
countenance and glittering eyes fascinated me as the 
serpent fascinates the fluttering bird it is about to 
destroy. My tongue was frozen. With a tingling 
sense of innocence and wrong in every atom of my 
being, I could not utter a word in self-defence or vin- 
dication. I could do nothing but gaze enchanted 
upon the devil that had so suddenly confronted me 
in the form of a man. 

Fortunately Abou Kuram had thoughts and a 
mind of his own. He made no reply to the minister’s 
suggestion. Perhaps being human he pitied me in 
spite of my bad character, for I must have presented 
a moving picture of distress ; perhaps after the fashion 
of the great, he hugged the idea of absolute power. 
At any rate he made a diversion which set my heart 
leaping with tumultuous hope. A small thing you 


182 


IN THE DAY OE BATTLE. 


will generally notice is of great effect in an extrem- 
ity. 

“ What is that instrument on which thou madest 
music?” he asked. “ Nay, rather,” he added quickly, 
“on which thou madest witches and genii screech.” 

With palpitating haste I answered it was named a 
bagpipe in my country, that it put the power of 
victory into warriors, and the fleetness of fear into 
the heels of their enemies. 

“ I said it was the scream of demons,” he remarked, 
with a chuckle. Then suddenly hi^ expression be- 
came one of deep thought; he seemed to be trying to 
recollect something. “ I have it, I have it,” he cried, 
sitting up with a beam of intelligence. “ In thy coun- 
try are the men naked about the legs?” 

“Partly, my lord,” I answered, in astonishment. 

“ They have been to Egypt, have the} T not?” he said 
eagerty, “to Cairo, Alexandria — they have looked on 
the desert and sniffed its sands. They have likewise 
been to India; they have pulled down princes, estab- 
lished empires, uprooted ancient laws, and made new 
ones, said prayers in a strange tongue, that no man 
could understand, and gone to battle with great cries. 
Have they not done all this?” 

“My lord speaketh the truth,” I said, more and 
more amazed. 

“ They are called ” He pressed his brows as a 

man will to aid his memor}". 

“Highlanders,” I shouted, beside myself with ex- 
citement. 

“ Nay, nay ; not that — that is not it. I will remem- 
ber ; }-ea, I have it. Dust thou not recall the tale of 
that Egyptian?” turning to his minister; “naked 
Scottish devils — that was it. They leap like lions, 
and roar like bulls of Bashan; yea, they have the 
voice of the wild ass, and their tread is like an army 
of horsemen that maketh the earth to tremble.” 

“My lord is right again,” I cried. 

“Wert thou naked when Said Achmet took thee 
in?” he asked. 


ON TRIAL FOR MY LIFE. 


183 


“ No, my lord.” 

He seemed disappointed at this, but his face lighted 
up again as he said — 

“At any rate, thou hast the screeching demons 
with thee. We have leisure this morning. Thou 
shalt give us some of the war music of thy land.” 

“ If m3" lord will cause room to be made for me,” I 
said joyously. 

“ Cause room to be made for thee ! Why, dost thou 
swell with playing?” 

“ Nay, my lord; but the piper must walk to and fro 
to play well.” 

“ Thou callest thyself a piper. I have heard of the 
company of prophets with pipe and tabret. Per- 
chance we shall have thee prophesying as well as 
making music.” Saying this, he waved his hand 
with a laugh as a signal to the soldiers to clear a 
space. “Make room,” he called. “Hearken to the 
music that putteth courage in the hearts of the naked 
Scottish devils.” 

The next instant the wondering people were being 
hustled back, and the pipes were squealing in the pro- 
cess of tuning up. 

You may be sure that, if ever piper played with 
all the zeal and skill that were in him, it was then. 
The consciousness of the great prize at stake was dif- 
fused like an electric current through lips, and lungs, 
and fingers, through head and feet, and all that lay 
between, giving fiery energy and ardour to both the 
soul and body of the performer. 

Yet, in spite of this earnestness and the acute sense 
of momentous issues hanging in the balance, I could 
not help being tickled by the ludicrousness of the sit- 
uation. Very absurd it was to me, an Arab in garb, 
a Highlander in feeling, to go sailing about in flow- 
ing skirts, bursting my cheeks for the favourable ver- 
dict of judges who had never seen or heard a bagpipe 
in their lives, who did not know one tune or note from 
another, and who would be quite likely to decide with 
overwhelming unanimity that all my merits were 


184 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


faults, and all my faults merits, and who were preju- 
diced and incensed against me. It was like putting 
Harlequin on a trial of skill before a jury who had 
never seen a play, who detested the theatre and its tra- 
ditions, and, above all, fervently hated the performer. 
Yet I gave them the music of my native hills with all 
my might — all the marches, strathspeys, reels, pi- 
brochs, coronachs, all the solemn tunes and ranting 
airs, all the rousing .battle pieces and the melting fu- 
neral wails I had ever learned or heard, with many more 
that were improvised on the spot. I thought my play- 
ing would have charmed the soul of a Macrimmon; 
my vanity even then made me proud of my crowding 
warblers ; I had flying thoughts of the delight of Dun- 
can could he have heard me ; in fine, to my own mind, 
I was surpassing myself in all kinds of music, both 
grave and gay, and playing nobly enough to win the 
plaudits of the best judges in all Scotland. But 
Arabs are not Scotsmen. The glances I managed to 
cast with the tail of my eye showed me either a list- 
less and apathetic or a frowning audience. The pre- 
dominating expression in their faces was unquestion- 
ably one of disgust. Rollicking airs and solemn 
psalm tunes — “ Tullocligorum” and the “ Old Hun- 
dred,” “Jenny’s Bawbee” and “ Martyrdom,” “The 
Laird o’ Cockpen” and “The Land o’ the Leal,” 
“Macgregor’s Gathering” and “Roy’s Wife,” had 
precisely the same effect — an ominously unfavoura- 
ble one. I played charges that would have made the 
“ Black Watch” or the “ Cameronians” howl for blood, 
and pibroclisthat would have made a Highland bailiff 
sit down and cry, and lilts that would have sent the 
young men and maidens of a whole village skipping 
on the green; I strode, I doubled, I danced, without 
moving a single individual to enthusiasm. There 
were plenty of black looks; but if any one gave a sign 
of encouragement I did not see it. Yet I blew on, 
blew livelier or fiercer, as the case might be, for the in- 
centive to keep going was strong. I walked with my 
drones in the faces of the ranks that lined my path — 


MOMENTOUS INTELLIGENCE. 


185 


a thing that was unwise; I pressed as near as possi- 
ble to Abou Kuram and his ministers; — a thing that 
was un wiser still, for the pipes at close quarters are 
more than any foreigner can bear with equanimity. 

I was in the midst of my parade, when, in advanc- 
ing towards Abou Kuram, I noticed the leather-faced 
counsellor at his right wriggling as if in dire pain. 
Paying no heed, 1 came up, wheeled, and marched 
back ; but, before I reached the other end, there was 
a sudden cry, and, with a rush, the people closed in, 
almost knocking the pipes out of my hands. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

MOMENTOUS INTELLIGENCE — MY LIFE HANGS IN THE 
BALANCE. 

Pressing forward with the rest to discover the cause 
of the sudden commotion I saw old leather-face on the 
floor engaged, apparently, in the singular diversion 
of trying to curl himself into a ball. His head was 
bent between his knees, and at the moment of my 
catching sight of him he seemed to be making pro- 
digious efforts to clasp his feet about his neck. 
Failing in that, he began a series of rapid gyrations 
as if he were making experiments in the principle of 
spinning tops ; but just as he was on the point of dem- 
onstrating how neatly the human figure may be made 
to revolve on its head, he shot himself out to his full 
length with every limb and muscle rigid. In this at- 
titude he lay for a second or so, then groaning pite- 
ously he began to roll over and over, his hands clapped 
hard on his stomach and his knees again spasmodi- 
cally seeking his neck. A glance told me the man 
was in convulsions. 

As I stood peering over the shoulders of the first 
rank of the crowd, his rolling eye caught mine, and 
his face, already hideous with anguish, blackened 


186 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


with heat. He was still sufficiently master of him- 
self to be venomous. 

“Ah, thou son of a mongrel witch, thou spawn of 
Satan, may the fangs of the serpent and the claws of 
the vulture be in thy living heart ere this day’s sun 
go down!” he screeched, spitting and pointing a 
clenched fist at me. “ Thou hast bewitched me with 
thy devilish arts. To thee I owe these gripes of 
death; I owe thee, too, my curse. Thou shalt have 
it, and may it drag thee to perdition.” 

And rousing himself with a diabolical effort, he 
cursed me body and soul, till, what with his frightful 
contortions, and the fiendishness of his imprecations, 
I felt as if a stream of minute icicles were trickling 
down my spine. He had to take breath in the midst 
of his maledictions; then, gathering himself again as 
he recovered a little, he turned to those about him, 
and in the same screeching voice demanded my in- 
stant execution. 

“ He is in league with evil spirits,” he cried. “ Slay 
him, slay him, ere he work more harm with his un- 
holy spells. I say, slay him !” he shouted still more 
fiercely. “If he escape, my curse be on you all !” 

His words were as a breeze to a smouldering fire. 
Immediately -a deep ominous noise, like the growling 
of hungry lions, rose about me, and I thought I had 
escaped the sentence of Ab'ou Kuram only to be torn 
by a mob of vengeful and superstitious fanatics. 
And, indeed, it might have gone hard with me had it 
not been that a fresh spasm came upon the man on 
the ground, so that his groans and screams of distress’ 
diverted attention from me. I could be slain at lei- 
sure; it was imperative that the sick man should be 
attended to at once. 

He was plainly in mortal agony. His face was 
livid and his twisting mouth covered with bubbling 
foam. He kicked as one distracted, and threw his 
arms about, and rolled from side to side, and curled 
himself up like a hedgehog, and beat his head on the 
stone pavement till, to preserve his brains, he had to 


MOMENTOUS INTELLIGENCE. 


187 


be held by force. And through it all he alternately 
execrated me and called on God and His holy Prophet 
for succour and mercy. 

A slave was hastily despatched for a fakeer or 
priest, who in Arabia ministers to the body as well 
as to the soul. He came in a little while, very dirty, 
very deliberate, and very sour, as if his chief func- 
tion were to make the sinner’s dying moments as mis- 
erable as possible. His medicine was strange, and 
his mode of administering it such as to make a whole 
man sick. With ceremonial slowness he first pro- 
duced a greasy copy of the Koran from the filthy re- 
cesses of his dress; following a long pause came a 
reed pen, which was minutely examined; then came 
another interval as if to give the suffering man 
plenty of opportunity to remember his sins and groan, 
and after it a tiny highly polished board was drawn 
forth from the mysterious folds of his robes. In due 
time there followed a small box containing some sort 
of paste, with which the board was rubbed white. On 
the page thus prepared, the priest wrote in his fanci- 
est penmanship two verses from the Koran ; then very 
leisurely, as if promptitude in. cases of sudden sick- 
ness were of all things most strictly to be avoided, he 
washed the paste off the board, mixed it, adding a 
liberal proportion of dirt from his own fingers, rolled 
it into a ball, and gave it to the patient. The man 
t took the loathsome morsel eagerly, and swallowed it 
| whole, nearly choking in the process. 

For a minute or so he appeared to be actually re- 
lieved, but presently another spasm coming upon him, 
he writhed and cried out more distressingly than 
f ever. The priest gazed down at him with impassive, 
i unpitying face. The resources of science and relig- 
ion were exhausted, and no more could be done. As 
for the sympathy of man, that was useless. If the 
minister was to die, well, lie must die; no use trying 
to th wart the designs of Providence. Accordingly the 
patient groaned and prepared for death, the priest 
standing stolidly by to witness his exit. 


188 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


“ It is God’s will!” said the fakeer, and the gaping 
crowd acquiesced. 

Now, as the reader knows, I owed the minister no 
love. But I could not see him die of pure ignorance 
and superstition. Making, therefore, a profound sa- 
laam to Abou Kuram, I asked if I might have the 
privilege of trying to save his suffering counsellor. 
He looked at me keenly as if doubting my motive, 
then, with a gesture which meant the thing was hope- 
less, he gave his consent, probably thinking it mat- 
tered little in whose hands a dying man went off. 

Laying aside my pipes and tucking up my shirt 
sleeves, I called for a copper pan such as I had seen 
used by Said Aclimet. Filling this with wheat, Ij 
placed it, with Abou Kuram’s permission, on a fire! 
of charcoal that burned in an inner room. Wheni 
the wheat was as hot as I could bear it on the back of 
my hand, I emptied it into a small linen bag for want I 
of a woollen — then quickly unfastening the minister’s 
clothes, I forcibly laid him on his back (for he re-| 
sented my interference) and placed the bag fair on his 
stomach. He yelled out that I was inflicting the | 
pangs of burning on him out of malice, and struggled: 
to get away ; but I held him down, and presently, asj 
the heat reached the centre of pain, he lay quieter. 

“I will save you,” I said to him encouragingly, 
“ but you must lie still. When you are well again, 
then you will be my friend.” 

He snarled that he never would be anything but my 
direst enemy ; yet as bagful after bagful of the ho 
wheat was applied, he grunted with satisfaction, anc 
at last confessed himself almost free from pain. Ther 
remembering a small package of Seidlitz powders 
which Mr. Watson had given me on board the Bird 
of Paradise , I drew the paper from the bosom of my 
dress, where I kept my valuables. By good luck, a 
few of the powders still remained. Mixing a double 
dose, I held it to the minister’s mouth, urging him tc 
drink as fast as he could swalllow. He obeyed, and 
I thought he would have choked, so strong w r as thd 


MOMENTOUS INTELLIGENCE. 


189 


gaseous stuff in his throat and nostrils; but a sharp 
smack on the back partially restored his breath. 

“ It was worse than the fakeer’s verses,” he gasped, 
looking up at me for the first time, through the water 
that welled from his eyes. “ It hath tried me sorely.” 

But I told him to be of good heart, for that now his 
cure was nearly complete, and to be sure in less than 
half an hour he was rid of his colic and was moving 
about, looking shamefacedly from Abou Kuram to 
me and from me to Abou Kuram. Heaven was gra- 
cious ; I had saved and conquered my enemy. 

“ Truly, this is the greatest marvel mine eyes have 
ever looked on,” commented Abou Kuram, scarcely 
able to credit his senses. “ Hast thou any more of 
that magic thing?” 

“A little, my lord,” I answered with a bow, “and 
if my lord will deign to accept it, his servant will be 
for ever honoured. ” Thereupon I presented him with 
all that was left of Mr. Watson’s Seidlitz powders. 
“ If at any time my lord should feel a griping in his 
inner parts, let him take two of these. They will cure 
him.” 

“ By the beard of the Prophet, I feel a griping even 
now;” and with that, he called on me to mix my 
drugs there and then, and let him have them. 

Nothing loth, I asked for some water and a clean 
glass, and with a greater air of importance than if I 
had the lore of the entire College of Physicians at my 
finger-ends, prepared a second potion, Abou Kuram 
watching every movement. When it fizzed to the 
proper pitch, I handed him the glass, telling him to 
drink quickly, or the virtue of the draught would be 
lost. He drank as if for dear life, his nose buried 
deep in the foam ; but ere he reached the bottom, he 
had to pause for breath. He spluttered a bit with the 
fumes in his nose, yet determined to do his dut}’, 
raised the glass again, and swallowed the contents to 
the dregs. 

He handed it back to me with a wry face. 

“ I hope thou hast not poisoned me,” he gasped, wip- 


190 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


ing his eyes. “ Tliou makest me shed tears like a 
woman.” 

“Let my lord have no fear,” I answered. “That 
is a physic, which will surely drive away his pains.” 

“ ’Tis poisonous to the taste,” he said. “By the 
bold Alborak, I am swelling,” he cried all at once. 
“ I shall burst asunder. This will tear skin and bone 
apart. Phew, ugh, bagh ! was ever such a tempest 
in man’s interior? I could drive a ship with the wind 
thou hast put in me. ” 

“ That but shows how much my lord was in need 
of a physician,” I answered humbly. 

“Oh, I shall surely burst asunder,” he repeated. 
“ They will be gathering up my fragments this min- 
ute. Why hast thou put a devil with fanners into 
me, to blow me to atoms?” 

But the fit passed off, as such fits will, leaving Abou 
Kuram, as he declared, such a comfort of body and 
clarity of mind as lie had not experienced for years. 

“Thou aft a marvellous physician,” he said cor- 
dially, “and by my faith thy hissing medicine is a 
potent one. For a while, I knew not whether it would 
kill or cure. Verily I thought another sat in my 
place, and that he blessed thee for thy skill in getting 
princes out of the way.” 

“ Be it for ever far removed from me, to hurt so 
much as a hair of my lord’s head,” I said fervently. 

“Nay, thou hast proved thy good faith,” he an- 
swered with a smile, “ at least, in this instance, j 
’Twas but a moment! doubted; and by the merciful 
Prophet, it is well for thee it was no longer, or the 
best part of thee should now be meditating upon yon- 
der tower. If thou lookest a little to the left — a little 
farther — thou wilt see a fellow grinning down upon 
thee. Yea, there he is. How he stareth ! Methinks 
from the whiteness of his pate, the kites have been 
pecking at him; a foul liberty with a man of his con- 
sequence. He was a spy, and we have put him where 
he may see all that taketh place. He consented un- 
willingly, averring, with tears and supplications, that 


MOMENTOUS INTELLIGENCE. 


191 


so lofty a perch ill accorded with his lowly disposition. 
A humble-minded man as thou seest ! but the State 
is courteous to such strangers as he ; and so he has 
been awarded our highest pinnacle all to himself. I 
would his friends knew how he has been honoured.” 

He laughed lightly, as if the beheading and quar- 
tering of men were a titillating little joke of the rar- 
| est relish, then reverted abruptly to my affairs. 

“It puzzleth me to make thee quite out,” he said 
with a twinkle. “Thou hast an innocent face; if it 
were not that faces can lie with the unction of an 
angel, I could almost believe thine; yet remember, 
the proof of thy wickedness is clear as yonder sun, 

[ though many a bright tale cometh from a darkened 
and perjured imagination. We will inquire more 
f into thy deeds and thy history. Meantime, I would 
know more of thy magical arts.” 

He was proceeding to examine me in the mysteries 
of medicine, and I was considering what plausible 
stories I could concoct when suddenly there arose a 
riotous commotion about the outer gate. Stopping to 
hearken, we heard a voice vehemently demanding ad- 
mittance to the Prince on business of urgent impor- 
tance both to himself and to the State. At this, one 
of the chief officials of the court ran out, returning a 
minute later with a haggard, anxious, travel-stained 
soldier who had evidently just flung himself from the 
saddle. The stranger salaamed very low as he en- 
tered, and, walking direct to Abou Kuram, handed* 
him a letter. 

“From Amood Sinn, my lord,” he said, bending 
again. 

“How fareth it with my brother?” asked Abou 
Kuram. 

“ 111, my lord,” answered the messenger. “ He hath 
had evil fortune; he hath sustained defeat.” 

“ Defeat !” repeated Abou Kuram, quickly. “ Thou 
speakest strange words. Art sure the heat of the 
desert hath not made thee mad?” 

“ My lord will find what I speak written by Amood 


192 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


Sinn’s own hand,” answered the messenger. “ Three 
days and three nights have I ridden across burning 
sands without drawing bit or bridle in order to let my 
lord have the letter. My mare which standeth with- 
out is ready to fall.” 

“Go, wash her feet and drink the water,”* said 
Abou Kuram, “and when she hath had food and 
drink see to thyself. My servants shall give thee 
whatever thou wilt ask; only be within call should I 
desire to question thee farther.” 

The man made his obeisance and withdrew. As 
he went out I noticed that Said Achmet hurried after 
him with signs of great agitation — a circumstance 
which I ascribed to the importance of the news that 
had been brought. But there was another reason, as 
shall presently appear. 

The next minute Abou Kuram rose with the open 
letter in his hand, and a profound silence fell on the 
assembly. There was a grim look on his face, and 
his eyes shone with a sort of dusky, lurid fire. 

“This concerneth not me only, but all of us,” he 
said, in a voice that was firm yet had a tremour of 
emotion in it. “ The war hath gone against Amood 
Sinn; the conqueror of the earth hath been defeated 
by Yumen Yusel and now calleth for immediate help. 
Will he have it?” 

There was a momentary pause of suspense, partly 
because of surprise at the unexpected tidings, partly 
because each man waited for his neighbour to 
speak. 

“Yea, verily, if it be my lord’s will,” cried some 
one, and then came the eager assent of every man 
present, with a shout that swelled into a thunderous 
roar. 

Abou Kuram’s face flushed, and the fire in his eyes 
broke into darting lights. 

“Ye put heart in me and give double strength to 
my arm,” he said. “ Who is Yumen Yusel that he 

*A special mark of honour to a horse that has performed 
some great feat. 


MOMENTOUS INTELLIGENCE. 


193 


should triumph over us and over our allies? But ye 
shall hear what is written in the letter.” 

And after a long preamble he read as follows : — 

“ The soaring eagle hath fallen and been trampled 
in the dust. An evil day hath come to Amood Sinn. 
His pride hath been humbled, his mighty bow broken, 
and strangers and enemies triumph over him. Know, 
my beloved brother, that I write with the bitterness 
of death in my heart, for my people, vanquished and 
beaten, have run like sheep before wolves. Deign to 
hear how this calamity hath befallen me. We met 
the army of Yumen Yusel in pitched battle four days 
ago. .They were as naught to us, yea, we counted 
them as dust which the wind scattereth. On the open 
plain we placed ourselves between Yumen Yusel and 
his mountains, thinking to cut off his retreat and an- 
nihilate him. But, alas! how shall I write it? The 
victory lay not with thy servant. The enemy hath 
I beaten us with great slaughter, and taken many of 
our camels with much provisions and water-skins, so 
i that we are like to die of hunger and thirst. This 
i overthrow we could not avert. My people strewed 
the ground with dead and beat drums and shouted 
i with shouts of victory. Yea, verily, their spears 
drank blood to the half of the staff. But, suddenly 
there came a rush like a whirlwind, and a man on a 
great black horse, with a band as fierce as himself, 
flew into the thick of the battle, and fought so much 
like evil spirits that our men were affrighted and 
slain in heaps and overcome. The man on the black 
horse had a sword like the sword of the angel Gab- 
riel, and he clove men in twain as I would cut a mel- 
on. Where the spears were thickest there was he, 
yet he was without scathe. He received a hundred 
spear- th rusts, yet was there not so much hurt on him 
as the prick of a pin. If he be not Satan, I do not 
know an evil spirit when I see it. Wherefore it came 
that, finding an adversary against which neither steel 
nor lead nor the bravery of man nor the fierceness of 
horse could avail, and the slaughter being very sore, 
13 


194 IN THE DAY OP BATTLE. 

my army fled in dismay. The enemy pursued, fall- 
ing on our camels and tents, and we are utterly de- 
spoiled. Yumen Yusel hath declared his intention of 
ravaging the land from the shores of the Red Sea, 
which swallowed up Pharaoh and his chariots, even 
to the Persian Gulf, and eastward to the great sea 
which stretcheth no man knoweth whither. With 
speedy aid we may yet overthrow him and bring his 
head to the ground, and so save thee and thine scathe- 
less. I pray thee come quickly with as many armed 
men as thou canst spare.” 

The details increased rather than diminished the 
wonder and consternation of a crowd just then as sen- 
sitive as mercury in the sun. A tense and painful 
silence fell when Abou Kuram ceased reading, horror 
and awe and surprise being expressed in every linea- 
ment of the thin, eager, tawny countenances that 
clustered about the Prince. He was himself the first 
to speak again. 

“We will put a curb in the nose of this mountain 
lion,” he said proudly. “We will tame his arro- 
gance, and make a mock of his pretentions. We 
waited for tidings of victory, and lo, we have tidings 
of defeat, and plans of unbounded conquest. We shall 
see, my brothers, if these things come to pass. Our 
kingdom and our lives, with the lives of our wives 
and little ones, our cattle, our horses, our camels and 
all that we have are at stake. But we are a fighting 
people ; the spear and the sword are as fit to our hand 
as the gauntlet, and methinks this man Yumen Yusel 
boasteth somewhat early in the day. And to say 
truth, my brethren, I am curious to have a look at 
Satan at close quarters. ” 

A shudder seemed to run through the throng at this 
touch of levity; but they liked the undaunted 
martial tone of their ruler’s speech, and responded 
with a vociferous clamouring for immediate ac- 
tion. 

“ How many men can follow me to battle?” asked 
Abou Kuram, turning to an officer on his right. 


Momentous intelligence. 


195 


“We have five thousand fighting men ready to 
draw spear and sword to-morrow,” answered the offi- 
cer. “ If two thousand remained in charge of my 
lord’s possessions three could march at my lord’s back 
whithersoever he cared to lead them.” 

“Be it as thou sayest then,” replied Abou Kuram. 
“ Give thou the captains orders to prepare immedi- 
ately for war; and as soon as the messenger hath 
washed and eaten, bring him hither that I may ques- 
tion him further.” 

The officer saluted and went out, nearly all the peo- 
ple in the court trooping after him. But the next in- 
stant they surged back like a recoiling wave at the 
heels of the courier, who had responded instantly to 
Abou Kuram ’s commands. 

My friend Said Achmet struggled to keep close to 
him, and I noticed that the old man’s face had a pe- 
culiar light in it, different altogether from the down- 
cast look it had so lately worn. The cause of this 
change was soon explained. Squeezing close up to 
me as the courier was being interrogated, he whis- 
pered joyously, “ He is my son of whom I told thee, 
Tabal, my son. Hath he not a goodly appearance, 
and a moving intelligence? Thou shalt know him. 
And thou — thy fortune is mending. May it grow 
prosperous from this hour.” 

And then he moved off with an air of indifference 
to prevent suspicions of undue intimacy. 

Meanwhile Abou Kuram was closely questioning 
the messenger. 

“ My brother attributeth his overthrow to this man 
on the black horse,” he said. 

“And of a surety he is right, my lord,” answered 
Tabal. 

“ Didst thou see him — I mean this invincible war- 
rior, this second Gabriel who smiteth his enemies with 
a flaming sword so that they become as the dust of 
the earth?” 

“ See him, my lord !” said Tabal, quickly. “ Yea, 
and felt him. ’Twas a miracle that his blade did not 


196 


IN THE BAY OF BATTLE. 


make two of me. My flesh gatliereth on my bones 
at the thought of him. ” 

And then, with the volubility of his race in mo- 
ments of excitement, he launched into a description 
of the man on the black horse, from which it appeared 
that that person of demoniac strength and valour was 
at the very lowest estimate fifteen feet high, and six 
across between the shoulders ; that his arms and legs 
were of such prodigious length and thickness as no 
mortal had ever measured ; that his sword was longer 
than any two spears put end to end, and so heavy that 
the three strongest men in Amood Sinn’s army could 
not lift it; that it killed at the slightest touch, and 
emitted lurid flames at its owner’s w T ill ; that he could 
fire a hundred pistols together, and shoot down half 
an army before it had time to understand what he was 
about ; that his eyes were balls of living fire, and that 
he rode a horse which was as clearly as himself a 
product of the nether regions ; and, finally, that neither 
steel nor lead availed in the least against him. 

Abou Kuram was almost the only man in the as- 
sembly who was not struck limp with superstitious 
dread. While others listened with gaping mouths, 
and widening orbs he had a look in which I thought 
amusement and indignation and a vehement desire 
for battle were blended. 

“ I must see this evil spirit,” he said grimly. “ Me- 
thinks it would be a curious exercise to measure the 
length of his flame-breathing sword, yea, and the 
strength of his great arm. Thou mayest go and rest,” 
he added, “ while I get ready for war. Thou shalt be 
our guide.” 

He looked round the throng, and his eye fell on me. 

“We had forgotten thee,” he said with an uncon- 
cerned smile. “ By the holy Prohpet thou art a most 
potent magician. Thou hast beaten the fakeer at his 
own game, what I have never seen before. Yet they 
tell dark tales of thee, and in truth thy marvels 
smell of the black art. It may even be,” and a twin- 
kle lit up his swarthy face, “that thou art brother to 


MOMENTOUS INTELLIGENCE. 


197 


this angel of destruction that we have just heard 
of. Heaven gave thee some intelligence; therefore, 
it must be clear to thyself thou deservest death; 
and, as time and business press, it were well, me- 
thinks, to give thee thy due with all speed. How 
wouldst thou have it if thou wert to choose?” 

This was just the sort of speech to make one laugh 
on the wrong side of one’s mouth ; j^et, judging it best 
to keep a brave face, I answered quickly — 

“ Fighting by my lord’s side.” 

The reply surprised him. 

“ That thou mayest the more readily deliver me to 
thine infernal ally on the black horse,” he said after 
a brief pause. “ That were to grant a favour indeed.” 

“If my lord believeth I mean aught dishonest,” I 
said, “let him strike me down where I stand. I de- 
sire no better answer to my accusers than an oppor- 
tunity to fight in my lord’s cause. Where words are 
of no avail let deeds be the witnesses. One tongue 
must be dumb before an hundred tongues, but two 
hands and a trusty sword, with the right spirit behind 
them, may tell the truth with convincing eloquence.” 

“These are brave words from so girlish a mouth,” 
he remarked, “ and brave words are ever pleasing to 
a right ear. But it still remaineth clear thou shouldst 
be hanged or have thy head cut off. Methinks I 
should feel easier if I saw thee looking down from be- 
side the Egyptian fellow. Yet again, to slay thee 
were to destroy the stuff of a right good soldier. 
Thinkest thou I could depend on thee after the testi- 
mony that has been offered against thee?” 

“ I have but one answer,” I replied, trembling with 
excitement. “ If my lord doubteth, he has there 
his sword, and let him strike my head from my 
shoulders.” 

“ I have ever more faith in the face than the 
tongue,” he said, looking his keenest at me. “The 
tongue speaketh many languages, and, indeed, the 
face, too, is apt in feigning, and yet, methinks, I can 
interpret thine. Besides, thou art already acquainted 


198 


IN TIIE DAY OF BATTLE. 


with perils, and, moreover a most magical medicine 
man. Where is our good fakeer? Oh, ho, gone. 
Offended at thy skill. ’Tis the way of physicians. 
They are as jealous of rivals as women. And ’tis 
something in thy favour that he will hate thee. 
Mightest thou not save a prince in the hour of trou- 
ble? Yet I forget not, if there be truth in many 
words, thou deservest instant death. I will put a fair 
question to thee, let thy life hang on the fairness of 
thine answer. If thou wert in my place and I were 
in thine, what wouldst thou do?” 

“Use thine aid to crush mine enemies,” I replied 
promptly. 

“By my faith, bravely answered,” he said, with a 
chuckle. “ Thou wouldst use me to crush thine ene- 
mies, showing thou art a man of penetration ; for, in- 
deed, I am a soldier bred, though sitting here in idle 
times to see rogues put to death. Thou wouldst use 
me to crush thine enemies, and in sooth thou wouldst 
do well. For I tell thee I never hear of war but my 
sword trembleth in its sheath with a desire to cleave 
heads. But should I do well in trying to use thee? 
Perchance, my dove might prove a scorpion. It is 
not a time to take risks. Shall we hang thee or use 
thee? Quick, for business is urgent.” 

“ Do thy will, my lord,” I replied, with a low bow. 

“ That is a plain answer. I will take thee at thy 
word and hang thee. ’Twere a sore scandal and an 
eternal cause of laughter to my foes if, having a spy 
in my hand, I let him go. Wherefore, thou hadst 
better say thy prayers,” and his manner became stern 
and serious. “As I am an upright judge and the 
guardian of my people’s welfare, thou owest a debt 
to justice. Let it be discharged with all haste. I 
have already tarried too long over thee.” 


A SUDDEN CHANGE OF FRONT. 


199 


CHAPTER XVII. 

A SUDDEN CHANGE OF FRONT. 

So all my rosy hopes were blown to the winds again. 
Fate had cut off the last chance of escape, and I 
could look for nothing but immediate death. For 
I had heard something of the portentous mysteries 
of statecraft that make such havoc of the conscience 
of rulers, and understood that behind the personal will 
and inclination of Abou Kuram were reasons of such 
fearful cogency as no prince who valued his power 
and security could ignore. However friendly my 
judge might be at heart he was not a free agent, but 
merely the instrument of a tyrannous system, which 
sentenced and slew with ruthless disregard of the 
sanctity of private thoughts. This was driven in 
upon me with staggering emphasis when the leather- 
faced ingrate I had relieved of his pains, humbly ven- 
turing to commend the wisdom of his master’s speech, 
enlarged on the absolute necessity of preserving the 
State from foreign intrigue at all hazards, and at 
whatever cost of blood ; and ending up with the prop- 
osition, “Let my lord decree death forthwith, and 
while he despatcheth weightier matters, I will see this 
rogue executed.” 

But we had both mistaken the force of Abou Ku- 
ram’s character. A weak man is the slave of his 
office; a strong man is its master and director. Per- 
haps it was the working of humanity in his breast; 
perhaps it was a sudden conviction of my innocence ; 
or, what is more likely, it may have been a prince’s 
dislike of dictation and interference that influenced 
him; but he unexpectedly took a course of his own. 

“ Words of wisdom drop- from thy mouth as honey 
from an honeycomb, Abdallah,” he said, with a hard 
look at his counsellor. “ Foreign intriguers and spies 
must indeed be given to the fowls of the air and the 


200 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


beasts of the earth. It is my duty and privilege to 
guard the State; I will take care they are not neg- 
lected. Again, business, as thou well sayest, press- 
eth hard, and in order that thou mayest give thy 
mind to other and more important affairs, I will my- 
self execute justice on this stranger. Get thee forth 
with all haste; and thou, Koor Ali, who will com- 
mand next to myself, go with him, and take no rest 
until my army be ready for war.” 

The two men bowed very low and hastened forth. 
He watched until they had gone, with a clamourous 
mob at their heels, then, turning to me, he said 
briefly — 

“ I have purposes that will astonish thy friend Ab- 
dallah. Thou shalt ride by my bridle rein, and we 
shall see of what stuff thou art made. Hay, nay, no 
speeches,” as he saw the fulness of my heart coming 
into my face. “ This is a time for action. Besides, 
thou mightest find cause to repent of thy fair words, 
for if thou should st prove false, thou shalt die the 
most horrible death Abdallah can devise to atone for 
this present clemencjL” 

With that he turned abruptly to a fawning official, 
and said in a brusque tone, “ The stranger will have 
need of food; see thou to his wants; and thy head 
answer for his safe keeping.” Whereupon, rising 
quickly, he swept majestically into an inner room, 
without giving me the opportunity of saying a word 
of thanks. 

My first impulse was to sit down and sob aloud. It 
seemed that nothing else could relieve my pent-up 
feelings; and, indeed, a careful observer might have 
noticed an unusual moisture about the lashes, which 
I wiped furtively while trying to jest with my atten- 
dant. 

The rising sun, they say, is worshipped ; and cer- 
tainly the favour of a prince insures many smiles and 
obsequious attentions. The demeanour of the people 
towards me changed as singularly as my shifting for- 
tune. Those who had spat on me with foul impreca- 


A SUDDEN CHANGE OF FRONT. 


201 


tions but an hour before, now saluted me with loud 
ejaculations of friendship and blessing. Many a man 
would probably have valued the tokens of goodwill 
more than I did. I had been defiant to the mob in 
my adversity ; in my triumph I hope I was not inso- 
lent; but assuredly I was in no mood to respond with 
any cordiality to the greetings of people who, if Abou 
Kuram’s humour had been different, would have 
shouted themselves hoarse with joy at seeing my head 
slashed off my shoulders. 

The sight of one eager face, however, among the 
many fawning ones, gave me a genuine thrill of pleas- 
ure. Said Achmet had haunted the place all the 
morning like a perturbed spirit, and now, on the first 
opportunity, he came running forward to congratulate 
me on my new lease of life. I had not much to say, 
but I gave the good soul’s hand a hearty Christian 
wring, and he did not resent it, though to shake hands 
with an infidel or stranger is pollution to the ordi- 
nary Mussulman. 

When sorrows come, says the poet, they come not 
in single spies, but in battalions. Once or twice in a 
lifetime, a few happy mortals have the sweet experi- 
ence of finding joys, too, come trooping in companies. 
While my benefactor and myself were in converse 
together, to the further delight of us both, word came 
from Abou Kuram that until the troops were ready 
I was to be his guest or Said Achmet’s, just accord- 
ing to my fancy. Needless to say what choice I made, 
nor how deeply grateful I was to Abou Kuram for 
this fresh sign of liis graciousness. 

Said Achmet carried me off with as proud a heart 
as if I were the greatest man in the land, and treated 
me with a tenderness that mere greatness could never 
have evoked. Indeed, if I had been his own son risen 
from the dead, he could not have been more lavish 
of the caressing attentions in word and act that the 
tremulous affection of an old man delights in, or 
evinced a livelier regret at the parting that was near. 

For the most part of three happy days I was with 


202 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


him, listening to wondrous tales of the diabolical 
prowess of the man on the black horse from Tabal, or 
discussing the prospects of the campaign with him, 
or drinking in the wise and varied discourse of my 
host himself, as we sat inhaling fragrant essences in 
the shade of his garden palms. 

How far off all that is now, and how strangely 
tinged with mystic hues! Said Achmet has long 
since gone to his account, 

“ And on his grave with shining eyes 
The Syrian stars look down, ” 

but the memory of his benign refuge remains with 
me as a beautiful dream of a day on an azure sum- 
mer isle after the beating of tempests on the main. 

The preparations at the castle went on with more 
bustle than speed, for it appeared to be the determined 
object of every man to get into his fellow’s way and 
thwart him in his work. The scene was one of con- 
stant confusion and uproar; night and day the hub- 
bub went on, waxing ever louder and shriller, till 
it seemed like pandemonium come again ; but at 
length order began to rise out of chaos, and even the 
novice mind could see that the preparations were 
really going on. Men came hurrying in from outly- 
ing districts. Horses and camels were got ready, 
swords, spears, and matchlocks were furbished up, 
ammunition was laid out, water-skins were filled, pro- 
visions were loaded on snapping, grunting pack- 
camels — a hundred pounds to every beast — and all the 
while the soldiers badgered, shouted, jested, and blas- 
phemed in a way that might have moved the envj^ of 
any Christian army in the world. 

On the morning of the fourth day a messenger came 
to me breathless, saying that Abou Kuram was seated 
in the audience court, and wished to see me at once. 
I hurried off, Said Achmet accompanying in some ex- 
citement, fearing that liars and intriguers had been 
at their loathsome work, and had succeeded in turn- 
ing him against me. But I was quickly reassured • 


A SUDDEN CHANGE OF FRONT. 


203 


for when I entered his presence with palpitating heart 
and hesitating step, he beckoned me to him with a 
gracious smile, bade a cushion be placed for me, and 
proceeded to inquire in his most affable tones, and, as 
I thought, with covert glances at Abdallah, who sat 
close by, about my health and welfare. 

“Time, perchance, hangeth heavy upon thee,” he 
said. “ But thou shalt soon have sport enough. Ere 
the sun go down again we shall be on the march to 
meet Yumen Yusel and his helper Satan. We shall 
see how thou canst sheathe thy sword in flesh ; ’tis a 
merry game, and methinks there will be plenty of it 
going.” 

And then in the hearing of all he repeated that I 
was to ride by his bridle in the character of physician 
and personal attendant, and that I was to be mounted 
on a favourite mare from his own stable. Abdallah 
sat looking on the ground with a clouded brow and 
compressed lips, but dared not speak a word. The 
crowd gaped and beamed on me as one basking in the 
favours of an all-powerful prince, though doubtless 
puzzled by the change of sentiment that conferred on 
me my distinctions.* 

“Thou wilt find the little Fatema of the purest 
Kohlani breed,” he went on, addressing me; “in 
shape and spirit unequalled outside the stable in which 
she stands. In her veins is the unsullied blood of the 
Prophet’s own mare. In fleetness as the deer, in 
courage as the lion, in gentleness as the lamb, in 
beauty as the gazelle, in intelligence as the serpent, 
she will be to thee both a companion and a protector, 
obeying thy wishes ere thou hast time to express 
them. " She will carry thee bravely to victory or fly 
with thee swifter than the wind in defeat. She will 
nurse thee when thou art sick, rejoice with thee when 
thou art glad, she will be thy lover and thy slave. 
See thou prove worthy of her. And now there is but 

* An Arab can confer no more signal honour than to pres- 
ent a guest with a horse of high pedigree. A wife from his 
harem is a small thing in comparison. 


204 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


one thing more : when thou seest the sun looking for 
his bed in the west, come hither, and thou shalt find 
her ready for thee.” 

He waved his hand to signify the audience was at 
an end, and rising, passed into the interior of the 
castle. 

“ Verily the great Abou Kuram hath shown thee 
favour beyond example,” remarked Said Achmet, as 
we returned for a little to his home. “ I think thou 
hast thy fair face to thank. The truth of nature will 
overturn many lies. As for the enterprise on which 
thou goest, it accordeth well with thy adventurous 
heart. The scent of danger is to thee as the scent of 
prey to the lion. Thy gladness is shining in thine 
eyes. I would I could see thee again.” 

“And may I not return to Marabel in triumph?” 
I asked. 

“Truly thou mayest; hut something tells me thou 
wilt not. It was pleasant to sit with thee over the 
evening pipe or plucking the ripe fruit, while hearing 
thee talk of thy country and adventures. But the 
bitter must be with the sweet. All things have an 
end, and that which once was becomes but a dream. 
The time of parting is at hand, and I shall lie awake 
on my bed at night thinking of the stranger who 
came from afar to cheer me in my solitude.” 

“ And the stranger will think of thee with grati- 
tude,” I returned. “ It is all he has to offer, and thou 
hast it in full measure. Wherever he may go, what- 
ever may be his lot, he will remember thy kindness 
in the day of his trouble.” 

“ It is surely enough,” he answered in a low voice. 
“ When thou returnest to thy people, tell them that 
beneath the burnoose there beat human hearts. And 
now one last favour I ask of thee : thou art now a 
man of influence. I commend my Tabal to thy care ; 
and the Lord prosper thee.” 

“May my best friend forget me if I forget thy son,” 
I replied, and he thanked me with gushing eyes. 

Early in the afternoon, in accordance with Abou 


A SUDDEN CHANGE OF FRONT. 


205 


Kuram’s orders, Said Achmet, Tabal, and I went to 
the castle, which presented a scene of frantic com- 
motion. An esplanade or parade ground in front 
was thronged with gaunt, fierce- visaged troops, some 
on foot, some mounted on horses, and some on 
dromedaries, wheeling and plunging and rushing to 
and fro with maniacal yells and brandishing of weap- 
ons. On first catching sight of them, through a vista 
of palms and tamarisks, I thought that either they 
had suddenly gone stark mad, or that the enemy, fol- 
lowing up his successes in the field, had pushed on 
and captured the castle. It added to my amazement 
when Tabal, seeing what was going on, bolted for- 
ward, shouting at the pitch of his voice, as though 
he, too, were magically bereft of his wits. Having 
no inclination to advance among the flying spears, I 
was meditating flight when Said Achmet touched me 
reassuringly on the arm. 

“ It is the Arzah,”* he said, with a smile. “ Thej 
are getting up the courage of war; methinks it wil 
be bad for the enemy.” 

Whatever might be the issue there was no denying 
the imposing ferocity of these preliminary antics. 

The men were armed with a variety of queer 
and uncouth weapons — ancient matchlocks, pistols, 
spears, swords, javelins, and daggers, which flew 
and flashed promiscuously, as if a company of mad- 
men had somehow possessed themselves of half a 
dozen armouries, and were enjoying themselves after 
the manner of Bedlam. 

As soon as we were seen approaching, a band of 
horsemen dashed to meet us, whirling their swords in 
air so furiously that in spite of Said Achmet’s assur- 
ance that the display was mere sport, I was under a 
sore temptation to show them a pair of clean heels. 
Happily, I was saved from this disgrace; for just at 
the crucial moment when their lances seemed to be 
dropping for the charge they wheeled with incon- 

* A war ’dance performed before going forth to meet an 

enemy. 


206 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


ceivable quickness and dexterity, and dashed hack 
the way they came, yelling till the courts rang. Two 
or three times this manoeuvre was repeated, each time 
with a madder dash and a quicker turning, then 
drawing up suddenly they faced us, saluting with a 
rigid, precision that was in striking contrast to the 
wild evolutions they had just gone through. 

They had scarcely turned to get back to their 
original positions when a great shout went up, and 
Ahou Kuram, superbly mounted on a grey charger, 
came curvetting and prancing on the esplanade with 
drawn sword. His appearance was the signal for 
another outbreak of the entire body of troops, horse 
and foot. Yelling and flourishing and throwing their 
weapons, they circled about him rather as if he were a 
captive for whose blood they thirsted, than a com- 
mander whom they wished to honour, while he rode 
quietly through the maze, sitting his high-mettled 
horse like one born . to the saddle. By-and-by the 
tumult died down, and Abou Kuram, still Tiding 
about, noticed Said Achmet and myself. W ith two or 
three bounds of his leaping steed he was beside us. 

“Here thou art,” he said, smiling down upon me. 
“ It pleaseth me to see thee punctually, according to 
thy word. Hast said farewell to the good Said 
Achmet? For the time has come to mount and be 
off.” 

“I am ready, my lord,” I answered. 

“ It is well, for the shadows grow long and the sun 
is hastening to his bed. Bring the little Fatema,” 
he said, addressing a slave. “ She waiteth for her 
master. ” 

A minute later my little mare, fully caparisoned, 
was led ambling into the parade ground. Addressing 
her, the slave made a pretty speech to the effect that 
she was going forth to great honour with the fair-faced, 
stranger ; that she was to obey his will, and that she 
would have her reward in a care that would preserve 
her from all ill-treatment, and that she would have 
dates to eat and sweet water to drink when the perils 


A SUDDEN CHANGE OE FRONT. 20 ? 

of the desert were past. The intelligent brute whin- 
nied as if to say she perfectly understood him ; then the 
bridle rein was formally delivered to me, and she 
took a step forward as if acquiescing in the change of 
proprietorship. I stroked her gently as a token of 
good will, rubbing her face, and speaking encourag- 
ing words in her ear, after the Arab fashion. Hav- 
ing thus made an agreement I fastened my green bag 
carefully to the saddle, embraced Said Achmet, and 
mounted. 

“Have my words exaggerated her excellence?” 
asked Abou Kuram, eagerly, coming close to me. 

“Hay,” I replied. “My lord has not spoken half 
the truth.” 

“ And thou wilt see she is as good as she is beauti- 
ful,” he said; a prophesy that was fulfilled to the 
uttermost, as this history will show. 

Many who have never set eyes on him have been 
eloquent in praise of the Arab horse. Poet and 
painter and romancer have vied in delineating his 
matchless excellences, physical and mental. But it is 
not until you have eaten and slept and fought with 
him on the desert, on the battle-field, beside the black 
tent in the green pastures, until you have been his 
intimate friend and comrade, and learned to appre- 
ciate his coolness and courage, his power of endur- 
ance and gentleness and intelligence and loyalty, that 
you can know his many high qualities. Yet perhaps 
only a poet could describe my Fatema. For in her 
were surely combined the perfection of equine virtue 
and beauty. 

Never anything more lovely, more dainty and 
proud, moved on four legs. 

She was neither big nor heavy, but her muscles 
were of whalebone, and her bones of the finest tem- 
pered steel. 'Her limbs, indeed, were like wrought 
metal in the firmness, cleanness, and grace of them, 
and the trunk in exquisiteness of curve and symmetry 
of parts was such as a sculptor may have dreamed of 
but has never matched in bronze or marble. The sum 


208 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


total of th^t animate loveliness, — the silken bay coat, 
the softly sloping shoulders, the buoyancy of the 
curved back, the fiery pride of the arched neck, the 
full round haunches, the rich sweep of mane and tail, 
the sharp, daintily-poised ears, the broad forehead and 
the fine muzzle, and, above all, the spirit of the alert, 
full-orbed eye, — is beyond the power of any artist 
save Nature herself; nor does Nature take such pains 
anywhere out of Arabia. 

When Fatema found me in the saddle, she began 
to glide through the giddy maze with an ease and 
fluency of motion that to me were like a foretaste of 
heaven. I plumed myself on my horsemanship; for 
one of the few things I learned thoroughly as a boy 
was to stick on the back of anything that could take a 
bit between its teeth, and no doubt I had now the 
conceit to hold up my head as a fit rider for the 
noblest of steeds. But, indeed, an old wife could 
have sat that supple, mincing creature with security ; 
though the upward glance of her eye, with its inti- 
mation of suppressed fire, told that, under different 
conditions, she could behave in a totally different 
manner. I was afterwards to prove how her tem- 
per and behaviour varied with varying circum- 
stances. 

Presently the muezzin began to cry plaintively from 
the minarets, and soldiers and citizens trooped off to 
the mosques to pray for pardon and victory, leaving 
only a few men to look after the beasts. As my 
company in worship would defile the sacred places of 
Moslem, I also remained behind. 

When the worshippers returned from their devo- 
tions the baggage-camels were put into line and 
examined by the officers, the horses and dromedaries 
being made ready for their riders while the examina- 
tion was proceeding. Then came supper, and, in 
honour of the great occasion, many sheep were slaugh- 
tered and roasted whole over big fires. The hissing 
carcases had hardly time to take a brown crust when 
they were torn asunder and eaten in huge mouthfuls 


A StJDREN CHANGE OF FRONT. 209 

by a ravenous host, who washed down the burning 
meat with copious draughts of goat’s milk. As I did 
not care to enter the lists in such a contest I contented 
myself with a piece of doughy bread, some dates, 
and a cup of coffee. 

When the meal was over, a curious and character- 
istic ceremony was enacted. A calf, only a few days 
old, was led into the open space and killed with a 
sword, its blood being made to flow inward towards 
the castle. The animal’s life extinct, every man who 
was to accompany the expedition stepped solemnly 
over the body, which was then burned so that no dog 
or other unclean beast might eat any part of the flesh. 
This is supposed to bring good fortune, and an Arab 
army could not be induced to take the field without 
first observing the sacrificial rite. The calf safely 
cremated, the men immediately mounted their camels 
and horses and wheeled into place ; then Abou Kuram, 
going to the front, delivered a short oration on the 
glory of war and the bravery of his soldiers, which 
evoked uproarious applause from the flattered. Ere 
it died away the kettle-drums were rattling and the 
cymbals clashing the advance, and amid vociferous 
cries of “ God save Abou Kuram !” “ God give the 

victory to Abou Kuram!” the strangely assorted 
mass swung slowly into line. The huge serpentine 
procession wound tediously through the narrow 
tortuous streets in which two camel-men found it 
hard to march abreast, but its tardy coilings were 
enlivened by the caperings and shoutings of the mob 
who ran in front of us and hung on our heels, and, to 
their own immediate peril, squeezed and pressed on 
both sides of us. On the outskirts of the town the 
people stopped, finding the pace on the open ground 
beyond their capacity in running, so they stood there 
and yelled forth blessings and good wishes, which we 
acknowledged with resounding cheers. As we de- 
ployed into open order for greater ease in marching, 
I caught a last glimpse of Said Achmet, who stood 
apart waving both his arms as if to signify he had a 


210 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


double interest in the receding column. Tabal and 
I waved our farewell in return, and from me there 
went with it a heartfelt benediction. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE MARCH. 

The details of the march need not be narrated at 
length. Our journey lay over scarred and blighted 
ground and across sandy plains, and in and out 
among circular sand-hills, — loose impermanent heaps 
which the winds of the desert twist and curve and 
fling about in their wanton, lonely sport, desolate 
heaps that hide the bones of the perished traveller, 
and are for ever moving their formless lips with a 
silent, stealthy motion, to suck in and overwhelm 
the living. No man knows the deep treachery of 
mother earth till he has wrestled with the noiseless 
forces of the desert. 

The pace, however, was brisk, for man and beast 
were fresh and eager; indeed it was a perpetual sur- 
prise to me how the animals made such progress over 
the elusive path. The camels, swinging at a steady 
trot, had much the best of it; for when the hard hoof 
of the horse sinks and slips, the elastic spongy foot of 
the camel spreads like a web, and he passes as easily 
and safely over drifting sands as a snowshoer over 
smothering wreaths. It was then I first understood 
how truly the camel deserves its title of the ship of 
the desert: for as ships pass easily along their liquid 
way, so the camel glides with sure and facile foot 
over his unstable course of sand. Yet the horses, too, 
had uncommon lightness and skill, seeing that every 
step forward was a half -step backward. 

To the horseman the first sensation of a desert ride 
is as if he were poised on springs of ineffable delicacy, 
which swayed gently on the slightest pressure. Much 


THE MARCH. 


211 


of this luxurious ease is due to the yielding track, 
but something also to the springy motion of the Arab 
horse. To the saddle nothing whatever is due, since 
it is merely pieces of the hardest wood roughly nailed 
and bound with thongs of rawhide. On an English 
horse and a macadamized road it would reduce a 
trooper to helplessness in an hour; and, indeed, with 
all the suppleness and softness of the true Kohlan, 
Arab saddlery soon galls and blisters the inexperi- 
enced. Being as hard as the wood they bestride, the 
Arabs themselves suffer no discomfort. 

On the first night we marched steadily till set of 
moon, then halted for food and rest. I could not half 
admire the quickness with which the fires were 
lighted with withered grasses and shrubs, and the 
good-humoured alacrity of the cooks in preparing the 
meal. To be sure it did not call for any elaborate 
exercise of art, for the rations consisted of nothing 
daintier than coarse flour, salt, dried dates, and coffee. 
The cooks took two or three handfuls of flour apiece, 
poured wlater on it from a skin and kneaded it into a 
dirty dough with dirty hands. It would be profane 
in an Arab cook to have clean hands, and so he keeps 
them religiously filthy, thus giving those who eat his 
preparations the benefit of many unsuspected in- 
gredients. 

The dough, which was thoroughly wet perhaps half- 
way to the centre, was beaten out into thick cakes 
which were laid on the glowing embers and covered 
with hot ashes. They were left thus till converted 
into a sodden soapy paste, then taken out and eaten 
as hot as they could be swallowed. I nibbled the 
edge of one; but finding my teeth stick in it I ate 
a handful of dates, took a drink of water, and 
then, wrapping my burnoose close about me, threw 
myself on the ground and slept the sweet sleep of the 
weary. 

It seemed I had not lain five minutes when the ket- 
tle-drums were beating the reveille. The grey dawn 
was only beginning to glimmer, but already the camel- 


212 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 

men were quarrelling with their grunting beasts, and 
our bakers were busy with the glutinous compound 
they called bread. We hastily swallowed some 
mouthfuls of it straight off the burning coals, with a 
few dates and a drink of musty water apiece, and 
were off again. 

For a while the air was deliciously cool and re- 
freshing; and the glories of the opening day in the 
lone wilderness as the sun broke through his curtain 
of white mist, were such as a man beholds with awe 
and remembers with reverence. But the blazing orb 
soon turned the dewy freshness to a sweltering, blis- 
tering heat, exceedingly trying to the nerves and tem- 
per of men toiling through shifting sands and conical 
tumuli of volcanic slag. Yet no man complained, 
only as we mopped our streaming faces the conversa- 
tion lagged, and here and there a man gave a low in- 
voluntary moan. Save such intermittent noises, and 
the dreary monotonous sift, sift, sift of animals’ feet 
in the sand, there was not a sound. When the sun 
mounts in his might, desert travellers are apt to fall 
silent. 

Towards noon, when we had almost reached the 
point of utter dissolution, we gained the crest of a low 
ridge, whence looking to the north-west we saw what 
evoked a cry of gladness from nearly every throat in 
the company. It was an oasis, a tiny spot of green 
with a clump of trees in the midst, shining like an 
emerald in a broad drab setting. We knew there 
was a well there and Tabal, with the privilege of a 
guide, suggested we should halt and replenish our 
water-skins. But Abou Kuram answered curtly that 
we were not yet in need of water, that the time for 
rest had not come, and that in forced marches men 
had to think more of speed than of comfort. 

There was a general look of disappointment at this 
speech, which urged Tabal to appeal again, and to 
advance reasons for stopping. 

“When I desire thy counsel I will tell thee,” re- 
turned Abou Kuram, shortly. “Look thou to the 


THE MARCH. 


213 


way, and leave the rest to me. And methinks thou 
hadst better mend thy pace.” 

After this no man durst speak, and keen as was the 
disappointment, there was no murmuring, only the 
men sat a little more grimly, and prodded a little more 
viciously with their riding-sticks. As we passed, 
many a man turned with yearning eyes to the verdur- 
ous spot, thinking, perhaps, he should be dead ere 
reaching another. 

If the forenoon had been hot the afternoon was the 
breath of living fire, yet we toiled on, dissolving and 
open-mouthed, and wondering how long we could 
stand the burning lances of the sun. 

I speak of the rank and file. As for Abou Kuram, 
he seemed to be oblivious of heat or thirst or fatigue. 
How I envied him! While my mouth was cracking 
he was evidently as cool and moist as a ripe pear. 
Koor Ali, who rode beside me, must have noticed the 
painful twitching of my lips, for, looking in my face 
with an expression of concern, he asked if I was 
thirsty. 

“ As dry as a baked brick,” I croaked. 

Koor Ali’s son, Ahmed, a lad about my own age, 
rode beside us, and on hearing my raven-voice, burst 
into a fit of laughter. 

“What art thou laughing at, Ahmed?” demanded 
Abou Kuram, turning slightly in his saddle. Ahmed 
pointed to me. 

“The stranger croaketh with thirst,” he said, “ere 
we are half-way over the desert.” 

I tried to explain, but failed ; my mouth was as a 
rusty machine that had not moved for a century. 

“Give him thy water-skin, Koor Ali,” said Abou 
Kuram, “lest he faint. It were ill to die in the 
desert,” he added, smiling at me. 

The water was dingy and beginning to smell badly, 
but just then a stagnant pool would have been sweet, 
and I took a huge gulp. Taking another, I held it in 
my mouth for a minute, then squirted it out, sending 
it, as if by pure accident, over the sprightly Ahmed. 


214 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


“ By my faith, I like not to be spat on by an infi- 
del !” he cried, grasping his spear as if to have at me. 

The laugh was now on my side, though I perceived 
the danger of indulging in it. 

“ ’Twas but an accident,” I said apologetically. 
“Yet it is good, and will cool thee.” 

I tried to propitiate him by handing him his fath- 
er’s water-skin to drink, but he disdainfully declined. 

“ Nay ; I am not a babe like thee,” he said. “ Thou 
shouldst have brought thy mother with thee,” and he 
tossed his head as if he were safe from the weakness 
of thirst in a desert land. 

Three mortal hours of panting toil and dripping 
sweat had yet to pass ere Abou Kuram ordered a halt, 
and then it was but to dismount, swallow a mouthful 
of dry dates and foul lukewarm water, and scramble 
into the saddle again. Through the broiling after- 
noon we stewed and gasped, never drawing rein till 
sundown, when we stopped for prayers and the even- 
ing meal. I had scarcely eaten when I was asleep on 
the sand; and my eyes appeared to have just closed 
when those abominable drums were beating the order 
to mount and march again. Words cannot tell how 
sore and tired I was, or how I longed to lie down and 
be at peace. The feeling was as if some one had 
pounded me limp and nature was slowly stiffening up 
again, with the joints all out of place, and every mus- 
cle and ligament stretched beyond endurance. But 
as the Arabs said nothing of fatigue I would have cut 
my tongue out rather than complain. 

Five days we panted on through scorching sands 
under a flaming sky, and five nights the bright Ara- 
bian moon lighted us on our trackless, hurrying 
march. B} t the third day man and beast were show- 
ing decided signs of exhaustion. Camels lay down, 
refusing to rise, and were left to die, sometimes with 
their burdens on them, sometimes with their throats 
cut, if there was time to aid them in going off ; the 
horses lagged with low heads and protruding tongues, 
and men dropped suddenly from their saddles with 


THE MARCH. 


215 


strange stertorous noises, and lay as senseless as logs. 
Two went raving mad, one of them succeeding in 
killing another and himself ere his comrades could 
cut him down. Hollow graves, which the jackals and 
hyenas could reopen with a scratch of the paw, were 
scooped out for the dead, and their camels given to 
others. The young soldiers shook and looked anx- 
ious, for sudden death and unceremonious burial are 
disconcerting to unseasoned nerves; the old ones 
clenched their teeth, growling that war and the desert 
were not for children; and Abou Kuram, self-pos- 
sessed, but a trifle grimmer than at starting, spoke 
roughly about the delays. So the cavalcade toiled 
wearily on, yearning so fervently for rest that it for- 
got glory, yet stolidly enduring the harshness of fate. 
But, indeed, an Arab is a wild cat in vitality, and 
more than a wild cat in the capacity to bear pain un- 
complainingly. We pressed silently and faintingly 
ahead, counting the beads of sweat as they rolled 
down, and wondering how many of us the desert 
would swallow ere we got a chance of taking it out 
of the enemy. 

At last we left the sands for alkaline lands, scantily 
clothed with hard, sour grass and sapless, diminu- 
tive shrubs, and gradually ascending to a range of 
mountains that crossed our line of advance north and 
south. It was somewhere within those ramparts 
that we expected to fintlrAmood Sinn and his discom- 
fited army. Being now close upon the scene of the 
late battle, we had to exercise double vigilance; for 
Yumen Yusel would naturally be on the look-out to 
prevent aid from reaching the man whom he wished 
utterly to destroy. Nearly all the cooking was done 
by day ; so that there might be no fires at night to 
indicate our presence and position ; and when we lay 
down to rest the number of sentinels was doubled. 
But we reached the foot-hills without molestation, 
and thankful that we were likely to be able to pick 
ourselves together before being called upon to fight. 

As it would be at once extremely dangerous, ex- 


216 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


tremely difficult and tedious to take the whole body 
of troops to the rendezvous appointed by Amood Sinn, 
Abou Kuram decided to send Koor Ali forward with 
an escort to ascertain whether it would not be possi- 
ble to effect a junction of the two armies outside the 
mountains. It was near sunset when we arrived at 
our halting place, and as soon as the moon rose, Koor 
Ali and his little band set forth, Tabal still leading. 

According to the guide, we might expect them back 
at the latest by noon next day. Noon came, however, 
without bringing them. The afternoon wore slowly 
on, darkness fell, prayers were said, and supper was 
eaten, and still no Koor Ali. Abou Kuram was get- 
ting impatient. After a forced march across the 
desert, it was exasperating to be kept waiting at this 
stage. The camp lay down to sleep, moon and stars 
kept their vigil, morning broke, and still no tidings 
of the absent ones. Abou Kuram strutted sullenly 
about the camp, recalling his stock of Arabian oaths. 
Noon came again, and again sunset, supper, and pray- 
ers, yet there was no sign of Koor Ali and his escort. 

I am afraid Abou Kuram went through his devo- 
tions with a preoccupied, inattentive mind that even- 
ing ; at any rate, the first thing he did after turning his 
face from Mecca was to pour a flood of objurgations 
on Amood Sinn, on Koor Ali, on Tabal, and all con- 
cerned with them. But that did not bring them, and 
once more the camp lay down to rest. The com- 
mander, however, did not lie down. Long after his 
men were snoring at the sky I watched his dark and 
solitary figure moving to and fro in angry, uneasy 
expectancy. 

“ There shall be a reckoning for this,” I heard him 
mutter once. “ Woe betide the man who causeth this 
delay.” 

He was still walking about when I fell asleep. 

I was enjoying a happy dream, when all at once, 
in the black darkness, I was roused by the crackle of 
fire-arms and the.shrill voices of excited men. 

“The enemy! the enemy!” they shouted, as I 


THE MARCH. 


217 


sprang up, rubbing my eyes. “The devil on the 
black horse, with ten thousand demons at his back.” 
And then all along our front there was a momentary 
line of leaping fire, which showed our scurrying men 
confusedly trying to get into fighting order. To our 
astonishment, and perhaps also to our relief, there 
came no response to our volley, nor could we hear any 
movement outside our own lines, though we heark- 
ened with ears that would have heard the stealthy 
tread of the panther. 

“ The enemy has . run !” said some one exultingly. 
“ Our fire has given him fleet feet to make off.” And 
that instant, as if in answer to this boast, there was 
the vicious ping of flying lead in the air, and some of 
our men dropped screaming to the earth. We deliv- 
ered another volley blindly into the darkness, then 
waited, with pounding hearts, for a rush, but, con- 
tary to all usage, it did not come. 

Savage at the double disgrace of being fooled and 
taken unawares, Abou Kuram ordered a sortie ; but 
the party had not gone twenty yards when another 
shower of bullets fell upon us from the opposite direc- 
tion. The foe was making a circle and peppering us 
at his will. A second sortie party was instantly sent 
out; but, like the first, it came back without making 
any discovery. Only some said they had seen a ter- 
rible apparition on a black horse of gigantic size, and 
that steed and rider breathed blue flame. So the army 
stood there in the inky night, nervously handling its 
weapons, cursing all sons of Belial who made war at 
unearthly hours, and supplicating the protection of 
the Prophet. The Prophet was evidently gracious, 
for there were no more of those ugly surprises that 
night. The foe, content with a moderate amount of 
fun, had gone off unscathed to chuckle over'his suc- 
cess and get ready for a big fight. 

Abou Kuram knew it was coming ; he knew, too, 
that the enemy, flushed with triumph, would be ex- 
ceedingly tough to deal with ; and the knowledge in- 
censed him afresh against his dilatory ally. But in- 


218 


iN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


telligence was at hand. Just as the morning star 
was fading out of sight, Koor Ali and his little band 
were at last spied emerging from a defile in the moun- 
tains. Abou Kuram watched them with never a 
word, but his face was set, and in his heart were the 
elements of a fearful explosion. 

As Koor Ali approached, we saw that he was ac- 
companied by a stranger of rank, whom we judged to 
be an emissary from Amood Sinn. At sight of him 
Abou Kuram became sterner than ever. 

“Behold, now we shall have a feast of words,” he 
said to me, “ and we shall be talking idly when we 
ought to be driving Yumen Yusel as the mountain 
wind driveth chaff.” 

When, at length, the company drew up, he received 
their salute coldly, and listened with a mixture of 
scorn and haughty impatience to the florid speech 
which the envoy hastened to make. The many ex- 
pressions of personal goodwill with which the oration 
was interlarded he acknowledged stiffly ; indeed, the 
responses were so ungraciously made, one with half 
an eye could have seen it would be far more congenial 
to him to draw his sword and fall furiously on this 
man of smiling face and fine words, than to stand and 
listen. Koor Ali, perceiving the temper of his chief, 
and well knowing what it meant, advanced with the 
object of making his report, and so cut short the pa- 
lavering. But he had not uttered a dozen words, 
when Mohamed ben Eldad Hassam (such was the 
stranger’s imposing name) interrupted him. 

“ Peradventure I may be permitted to say to my 
lord’s brother,” said the envoy, beaming upon Abou 
Kuram with a feline softness and craftiness of ex- 
pression, “that as to the delay which hath occurred 
the good#and gallant Koor Ali and his followers, who 
showed the courage of lions in coming to us, are in 
nowise to blame. ” 

“ My lord ought not to trouble himself with such 
small matters,” returned Abou Kuram, with the 
slightest of bows and the faintest of smiles. “ They 


THE MARCH. 


219 


become not his rank. Besides, he is weary, and 
needetli rest.” 

“I am indeed weary,” responded Ben Eldad, with 
unruffled urbanity. “And it is because of that I 
would speak in behalf of Koor Ali ; for may I never 
have the holy joy of sitting in the Prophet’s presence, 
if he hath not driven us as if we were things of iron 
and steel, and not men of simple flesh and blood.” 

“ It is not proper that my lord should thus add to 
his weariness,” interrupted Abou Kuram. “ Let him 
withdraw to my tent, and have his feet washed by 
his servant’s slaves, and food set before him, and take 
the rest of which he is so much in need. Koor Ali 
will himself tell his story,” and with an imperative 
manner that was not to be resisted, he led Mohamed 
ben Eldad Hassam to the retirement of the tent. In 
a minute he was back again. 

“Now,” he said to Koor Ali, drawing himself up 
with soldierly sternness. “We will hear what thou 
hast to say. Wherefore didst thou tarry so long, and 
what tidings hast thou brought?” 

Koor Ali gave his story briefly and clearly. To 
begin with, he said, they did not find Amood Sinn at 
the place appointed, an excursion of the man on the 
black horse and his marauders having driven him 
deeper into the mountain. This change of situation 
involved an arduous search of forty-eight hours, and 
when at last Amood Sinn was found, it was skulking 
among the rocks as if he were a fox, with his army 
scattered he knew not whither. 

“ His heart was as the dust under our feet,” pursued 
Koor Ali, “and he railed upon the evil spirit on the 
black horse who had come to destroy him. I asked 
him if he intended to let Yumen Yusel harry his 
kingdom, and carry away his horses, his cattle, his 
camels, his wives, and his little ones, and he an- 
swered, ‘If it is the will of God.’ ‘Nay,’ I replied, 
‘that is but the voice of a craven fear. We are come 
hither to help thee with a great host, and are we to 
go back because thou best among the rocks, afraid to 


220 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


come forth and give the enemy battle?’ Whereupon 
there were shame and confusion on his countenance, 
and he arose and said that of a surety they would 
fight. ‘But how shall I prevail on my men,’ he 
asked, ‘for they think these are evil spirits leagued 
against them?’ ‘Gather them unto one place,’ said 
I unto him ; and he sent out messengers and gath- 
ered them into one place ; a great hollow in the midst 
of the mountains. ‘Speak unto them,’ I said. ‘Nay, 
it will be better if thou speak unto them,’ he an- 
swered, ‘for they no longer heed my words.’ Where- 
upon, I stood forth on a rock and spoke to them, and 
told them how my lord had come to help them ; and 
hearing this, they took heart, and shouted -with a 
mighty voice that they yearned for vengeance, and 
were ready to do battle with Yumen Yusel and the 
man on the black horse. And I, thinking it well to 
take them while the spirit was strong upon them, bade 
them come down to join my lord, whereat Amood 
Sinn, trembling greatly, said, ‘Nay, it is better for us 
to remain here until all things are ready.’ ‘Thou art 
more afraid than thy men,’ I said. ‘They are but 
common soldiers,’ he answered; ‘the enemy seeketh 
not their life, but mine. Peradventure if we go down 
with thee, he will fall upon us by the way, and slay 
me.’ Whereupon I, answering, said that forasmuch 
as no battle could be fought among rocks and gorges, 
they must come down to the plain. If they did not, 
then would my lord return to Marabel, and Amood 
Sinn’s possessions would go from him and his pos- 
terity for ever. And being again sore ashamed, he 
consented to come down, and now lieth yonder, close 
by the foot of the mountain, awaiting my lord’s be- 
hest.” 

“ Thou hast done the part of a brave man, Koor 
Ali,” said Abou Kuram, when the recital was at an 
end. “ I was wroth at the delay, and now my anger 
is kindled against Amood Sinn. Thou hast done 
right well in taking the cowardly dog by the ear, and 
dragging him to the foot of the mountain. We have 


THE MARCH. 



been surprised here, and a battle is at hand. Get 
thou things ready, Koor Ali. We will move to meet 
Amood Sinn. And now I must go to Mohamed ben 
Eldad Hassam. He lieth ill at ease in my tent, full 
of excuses for his brave master and peradventure for 
himself.” 

“ Yea, it is likely,” returned Koor Ali. “ My opin- 
ion is that he cometh to spy my lord’s strength. He 
will return, if thou let him, to report to Amood Sinn, 
and if my lord’s army be not enough in their eyes 
they will betake themselves to the rocks again.” 

“ We will see if there be no sand for his eyes,” said 
Abou Kuram, significantly, turning towards his 
tent. 

The warning which Koor Ali had given was well 
timed ; for sure enough, when Mohamed ben Eldad 
Hassam had washed and eaten and rested and paid 
Abou Kuram the regulation number of compliments, 
he proposed that he should get an escort and precede 
the troops, in order that Amood Sinn might be pre- 
parted to receive their illustrious general in a fashion 
becoming his rank. But Abou Kuram had not stud- 
ied diplomacy for nothing. 

“My lord troubleth himself too much,” he replied 
with an insinuating grace that was wonderful to be- 
hold. “We are soldiers, and will be satisfied with a 
soldier’s welcome. We are not come hither for feast- 
ing and ceremonies, but to destroy Yumen Yusel and 
his evil ally on the black horse of whom we have 
heard so much.” 

Mohamed ben Eldad turned liis eyes to heaven at 
this, mentally invoking its protection. 

“ Thinkest thou steel or lead will avail upon him?” 
he asked. “ ’Tis hard to kill Satan.” 

“ If he come in our way we can but try our weapons 
upon him,” answered Abou Kuram. 

“ Thou speakest like the valiant man thou art,” said 
the envoy, sweetly. “ Wherefore I would again crave 
my lord’s permission to return in advance of the 
troops. My royal master will be sore displeased if he 


2 ? 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


be denied the opportunity of preparing for my lord’s 
reception.” 

“The good Amood Sinn knoweth we are coming,” 
said Abou Kuram, suavely, “and thou needest not 
fear for his princely beneficence. We do not look for 
ceremonies with the foe in sight. Besides, see, the 
troops are even now ready to march. It were folly 
for thee therefore to hurry away.” 

After that Mohamed ben Eldad could not further 
persist, but his disappointment and chagrin were 
manifest to all. He and his master were committed 
to the chances of another battle. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

AMOOD SINN’S BRAVERY. 

When early in the afternoon the two armies effected 
a juncture, the aspect of the allies was such as might 
well have made Abou Kuram pause ere joining them 
in battle against so formidable an opponent as Yumen 
Yusel. The rest had given our men back their spir- 
its ; the toils, the burnings of the desert were forgot- 
ten, and everjr heart beat high and fast for the chance 
of spoil and glor3 r that was at hand. Amood Sinn’s 
troops, on the contrary, though they made a fine show 
of valour and enthusiasm at our approach, were as 
miserably draggled and downcast as any men that 
ever crept out of- the mire after a trampling by the 
enemy, and all their brave play-acting, their shout- 
ing and brandishing of arms could not hide the sense 
of disaster that was upon them. To put trust in the 
intrepidity of such deplorable losels was like relying 
on the valour of a company of scarescrows. 

Amood Sinn himself rode out to meet us, gallantly 
mounted on a richly caparisoned charger, and at- 
tended by a suite in magnificent draperies and a 
blaze of variegated colours. Nature had given him 
a soldierly figure, and in his gorgeous and imposing 


AMOOD SINN’S BRAVERY. 


223 


dress he would have looked the bean ideal of a mili- 
tary leader, but for the irresolution of the restless eye 
and a general air of despondency that even the pomp 
and pageantry of his state could not altogether dispel. 

The meeting of the two princes, however, was ex- 
tremely cordial, both dismounting and embracing in 
the presence of the assembled host. But when the 
preliminary civilities were over, and Abou Kuram 
showed a disposition to come to business, Amood hesi- 
tated, made excuses, and then, all at once, became ex- 
cited and hysterical. Launching into a distracted 
tale of the supernatural, which any old wife in Scot- 
land would have been ashamed of, he declared he had 
had the clearest ocular proof that the man on the 
black horse was none other than Satan himself. 

“As for Yumen Yusel,” he cried, flourishing his 
sword, “ he is but a child in war ! Were he here now 
I would shear off his cowardly head as a swift reaper 
taketh the ripe barley. But can man prevail against 
the devil?” And he cast a doleful look at Abou 
Kuram as if to say, “ It’s really useless, you know, 
risking our lives.” 

“ Perchance he is not the great Satan himself, but 
only a little devil,” replied Abou Kuram, who, while 
not without his touch of superstition, held Amood’s 
fancies in contempt. “ I long to set eyes on him, if 
he be Satan, that I may know his looks, if he be 
aught else, that I may make his body a sheath for 
this sword.” 

“Is my brother mad?” asked Amood, with deep 
concern. 

“Yea, mad with a thirst for battle,” answered 
Abou Kuram. “ Will my brother give orders to have 
his men made ready?” 

But Amood had still a multitude of pretexts for de- 
lay. For one thing, Abou Kuram and his gallant 
army must be feasted ere fighting could be so much 
as thought of. The march hither had been long and 
arduous, and ill befall him if it should ever be said he 
had forgotten how to be hospitable to his friends. 


224 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


Abou Kuram, however, was too familiar with guile 
to be inveigled. With a manner that was the pink 
of courtliness, yet had in it more than a suggestion 
of imperiousness and austerity, he declined festivities, 
saying that feasting would be sweeter after victory, 
and that he would joyously eat the carcasses of a hun- 
dred sheep when Yumen Yusel and his satanic lieu- 
tenant were crushed. He was aided and abetted in 
his policy of action by Ismael Numar, Amood’s sec- 
ond in command, a brave and capable officer had he 
been free from the trammels of a pusillanimous supe- 
rior. Amood yielded a reluctant consent, the kettle- 
drums and cymbals clashed and rattled together, and 
the troops marched out to bivouac on the plain. 

The chosen spot reached, Amood Sinn desired to 
have a vermilion tent with luxurious state appoint- 
ments set up, insisting so strongly on what was due 
to his exalted rank that Abou Kuram was forced to 
point out in undiplomatic language how exceedingly 
awkward luxurious vermilion tents might prove in 
case of a surprise or a night attack. So, murmuring 
bitterly about the unprincely discomforts of a cam- 
paign, Amood moodily ate his supper, said his praj r - 
ers, and lay down beside the smothered fires to study 
the starry sky and await what further evils fate might 
bring. The soldiers lay armed by their harnessed 
beasts, gnawing at mutton bones like a colony of dogs, 
while Abou Kuram, vigilant, active, and more than a 
trifle angry, moved about, giving rapid instructions 
and speaking words of stern encouragement. 

Slowly the silent night wore on. The big bright 
stars twinkled fitfully; the moon sailed majestically 
out into the empyrean spaces for a little, and then 
went her imperial way, leaving a darkness that was 
full of vague dread and awesome suspicions. The 
men, casting their mutton bones from them, sat up 
with a quivering tension of nerve and muscle, and 
felt their weapons. Mentally they were counting the 
minutes till the light should appear; for this was the 
terrorizing interval of blackness when stealthy spears 


AMOOD SINN’S BRAVERY. 225 

might stab without affording the victims a chance of 
retaliation. 

An Arab attack sometimes comes with the roar of 
thunder and the rush of the simoon, sometimes with 
the secrecy and hush of death. When the troops were 
beginning to remark with bated breath that there was 
to be no molestation from the enemy, and were dar- 
ing to think of rations, all at once fierce yells and a 
spluttering fire broke from the outposts. In half a 
second more a ring of flame engirdled us. By its 
brief light we saw a swarm of rushing demons with 
levelled spears charging in among us, and the screams 
of pain and terror told how effectuallly they were do- 
ing their work. We leaped upon our beasts; we 
charged hither and thither in the pitchy blackness, 
mistaking friend for foe, slashing when we should 
have aided, and aiding when we should have slashed; 
and then there fell a silence as sudden as had been 
the tumult ; for the enemy, slipping from our fingers, 
seemed to have disappeared into the earth. Crowd- 
ing close together the army watched with shuddering 
expectation for another rush ; then, as it did not come, 
recovered nerve with a hurricane of profanity. 

Abou Kuram and Amood Sinn held an improvised 
council of war. 

“ Let us take to the mountains,” piped the latter in 
the falsetto of shivering fear. 

Abou Kuram laid an iron hand on Amood ’s trem- 
bling arm. 

“The cause is thine, not mine,” he said, with a 
quick and meaning emphasis. “ Do what seemeth to 
thee good. Only if thou give not instant orders that 
every coward who seeks to fly be cut down, I and my 
men with me will return as we came, and thou and 
thy possessions can go to eternal destruction.” 

“It is well, it is well,” laughed Amood Sinn, hys- 
terically. “ I did but jest. By this right hand the 
man who flieth a foot shall have immediate death for 
his portion. Proclaim it abroad, Ismael Numar. If 
there be any man afraid to fight, bring him here that 


226 IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 

I may cleave the dog in two. I decree that the man 
who is afraid shall die without time to repent of his 
sins, yea, die the death of a felon. I would not go to 
the mountains without revenge for the pasture lands 
of Kjed and all the flocks that have ever fed on them. 
See thou to it, Ismael Kumar, that every coward shall 
be put ingloriously to death.” 

“My lord’s will shall be obeyed,” answered Ismael 
Kumar, with alacrity. 

As the enemy did not return, scouts were sent out 
to discover his whereabouts. They came back in the 
early morning with the intelligence that he lay be- 
yond a swelling in the plain about a league and a half 
to the north, and the army was immediately put in 
motion to give him battle. 

Keeping his counsels to himself, Abou Kuram 
quietly laid his plans about the disposition of the 
troops, and by a swift and adroit manoeuvre, he con- 
trived to get his own contingent in the rear. The ar- 
rangement, as may be guessed, was little to the taste 
of Amood Sinn. Finding himself unexpectedly where 
the fighting promised to be hottest, he came to Abou 
Kuram with a fine air of graciousness and a profu- 
sion of honeyed words to beg his “ great brother” to 
accept the post of honour in the van. But the great 
brother’s modesty would not suffer him to assume a 
glory that properly belonged to another. By all the 
right of war, all the prerogatives of fame and achieve- 
ment, the distinction of leading to victory should fall 
to the lion-hearted Amood Sinn, whose deeds of valour 
were a theme of inspiration to poet and warrior 
throughout the length and breadth of the land. It, 
was a lesson in guile that would have benefited any 
courtier in Europe to note how those two expert dis- 
semblers wheedled and palavered, and how mean and 
worthless each made himself in comparison with the 
other. Abou Kuram protested he was but as the dust 
under the hoof of Amood Sinn’s charger, and Amood 
Sinn swore a solemn oath he was not fit to bind the 
spur upon Abou Kuram’s heel. Abou said that 


AMOOD SINN’S BRAVERY. 


227 


Amood was a second Sikander el Rumi, and Amood 
that Abou was in strength and courage as Gabriel 
himself. So the soft blandishments and subtle self- 
depreciations went on as fervently as if each man were 
convinced he spoke gospel truth. But in the end 
Abou Kuram was not to be moved out of his humility ; 
so Amood Sinn, after a useless expenditure of breath 
and time, had to make the best of his unwelcome hon- 
ours. Having regained possession of himself by this 
time, he accepted the behests of fate without a ruffle 
in his sleek hypocrisy, though I thought there was 
something of a wry twist in his feigning mouth as he 
turned to ride to the post of danger. No sooner was 
he gone than the manner and look of Abou Kuram 
changed. His eyes glowed, his brows lowered, and 
his lips were compressed to an ominous thinness. 

“ Our brother lieth with a rare persuasion to-day,” 
he remarked dryly to Koor Ali, as they watched the 
retreating figure; adding, with a sudden truculency, 
“ B} t my blade-point, I will drive him into it. I tell 
thee he shall fight, or if he fly, he shall find a worse 
foe in front than behind. Should the eagle prove a 
barn fowl, by my faith, instead of saving we will help 
to pluck it.” He paused, looking over the assembled 
army. “ Doth it not seem to thee there is victory in 
the looks of these armed men?” he asked. 

And such, indeed, was the martial and imposing 
array, that it might well have made a poltroon into 
a hero. For the spirit of battle was once more ani- 
mating the plumed and bannered host that covered 
the plain like a sea, its colours aflame and its arms 
flashing like thickets of steel in the early sun. The 
allies had fled to the mountains like sheep before 
wolves, the}’ had been found broken, dejected, utterly 
demoralized, because they were without a leader, and 
it was with difficulty they had been brought back. 
But now. side by side with an army that was fresh 
and sworn to conquer, they were renewed in heart, 
and savage for revenge and plunder. So they danced 
about on caracoling horses or straddling camels, toss- 


228 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


ing spears and whirling swords and matchlocks to 
the maddening incentive of pipe and drum and cym- 
bal and a tumult of whoops and howls. 

“That is the thirst for blood,” said Abou Kuram, 
contentedly. “ Ride forward, Koor Ali, and help our 
brother to make haste in getting into battle array. 
Tell him we must possess that height,” pointing up- 
ward. “ It will be worth a thousand men.” 

Panting for action, Koor Ali galloped to the front 
with the message, to find Amood Sinn giving instruc- 
tions about lighting fires to roast some sheep and 
goats that had been taken in the mountains. Koor 
Ali instantly wheeled his horse and rode back to Abou 
Kuram to report, Amood following distracted at his 
heels. 

“My brother is impatient,” cried Amood, when he 
carrte up. “ The men need strength for the toil and 
heat that are before them. Wherefore not light fires 
and cook our booty?” 

Abou Kuram answered that the men had dates 
and water ready to their hand, and would have the 
better wind by going on short rations. 

“ When the battle is won, my brother will perceive 
they could eat with more leisure and satisfaction,” 
he added with a grim politeness that admitted of no 
dispute. 

Ill pleased, for he had resolved to hearten himself 
with some handfuls of good mutton, Amood Sinn 
once more returned to his place, and the men, with- 
out dismounting, hurriedly washed down a bunch of 
dry dates apiece with a draught of lukewarm water. 
The meagre meal was hardly swallowed when Koor 
Ali was careering to the front again with instructions 
to Amood to form and make for the height without 
further delay. 

The swelling in the plain, behind which lay the 
forces of Yumen Yusel, had the appearance of an 
enormous billow thrown up in some upheaval or con- 
vulsion of nature, and solidified and fixed as it rose. 
It was the only elevation in the plain, and much de- 


AMOOD SINN’S BRAVERY. 


220 


pended on our possessing it. Once upon the crest or 
ridge, we could make our arrangements for annihilat- 
ing the enemy at our ease, and with all the advan- 
tages of a superior position. Then, when all should 
be ready, we would spring upon him, crush him, man- 
gle him, sweep him off the face of the earth, and leave 
him neither name nor inheritance among the sons of 
men. It was an excellent plan, all that remained was 
the execution. 

Scouts were thrown out in front to prevent sur- 
prise, while the whole force was pushed vigourously 
on- to be ready for any advantage that might fall in 
the way of brave men. Abou Kuram hurried up the 
rear, and tried to bridle his impatience. 

“It galleth me to be behind,” he remarked, “when 
I fain would be measuring swords with this cham- 
pion on the black horse. Perchance I may have an 
opportunity. ” 

Perchance he might, and in case he had, we all felt 
it would be well for the lieutenant of YumenYusel 
to have his prayers said in advance. 

A second detachment of horsemen was thrown out, 
and went spurring up the slope as if determined to 
snatch all the glory of victory to itself. Seeing it 
coming, the scouts, who were now well on, struck spurs 
to their horses, and a fierce thrill of expectation vibrat- 
ed through the main body as it, too, quickened its 
pace. It was going to be exceedingly awkward for the 
foe lying unconscious on the other side of the billow. 
That was as clear as the sun that flamed in the heavens. 

The scouts were riding their hardest, and in another 
minute would be on the top. As they neared the 
ridge, we held our breath, the whole army seeming to 
pause for a signal. The scouts lay flatter and flat- 
ter on their horse’s necks, and the dust rose in a dens- 
er line behind them. Presently they halted, as it 
appeared very abruptly. Had they discovered the 
lurking foe? The solid mass below gave a great 
united gasp that was as the sough of the wind in a 
forest, and waited with leaping pulses. 


1 


230 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


The stoppage, however, was a mere precaution ; for 
two or three of the scouts, slipping from their sad- 
dles, and flinging their reins to their comrades, hur- 
ried forward on foot, bending low as they ran. The 
army below looked up, panting like hounds on the 
leash. A deep murmur rumbled on the air, swelled 
into a hoarse growl, sank, and died away— the cry of 
vengeful men for blood . The commanders, excitedly 
gripping their hilts, moistened their dry mouths to 
give the order for a rush ; the trumpeters hung with 
trembling trump to lip ready to blow the deadly 
blast ; the men listened and looked in bodeful silence. 
It was the thrilling stillness that preludes the storm. 
Next minute the thunders and lightning of a curbed 
vengeance would be let loose, and Heaven help the 
vanquished. 

The scouts, now crouching like tigers in sight of 
their prey, crept softly towards the crest. The enemy 
must be lying in fancied security, as he had been seeii 
at the dawn. Swiftly and with bitter self-upraidings 
he would rue his supine inactivity when he woke up 
amid disaster and death. Onr scouts were within a 
few yards of the top, and our hearts thumped with a 
devilish rapture of expectation. 

From the front, Koor Ali was waving his sword as 
he looked back for a sign. Abou Kuram, tingling 
with excitement, waved his own in return, and in an 
instant a cloud of dust rose as another body of cav- 
alry flew up the slope. The general did not intend 
that mad burst ; yet it was inspiring to see how it 
acted on the army. A savage roar went up from 
every man in the force, and Abou Kuram tingled 
again as if an electric coil encircled him. 

“Forward! Forward!” he shouted, making circles 
of light with his sword. Trumpet and kettle-drum 
blared and rattled, officers scurried about yelling or- 
ders no one heard, and the men, howling like an es- 
caped menagerie, goaded their plunging beasts. And 
then, when all were so intent on rushing to victory 
and spoil that there were no eyes for what was going 


AMOOD SINN’S BRAVERY. 


231 


on above, all at once there was a crackling of mus- 
ketry on the ridge, and, looking up, the very beating 
of our pulses suspended, we saw it dark with war- 
riors, as if dragons’ teeth had sprung up armed men. 
A line of white smoke ran zigzag along the top ; ere 
we could realize what had happened, another spurted 
out with vicious points of fire in the midst. The 
scouts on foot fell to a man, and many were brought 
out of their saddles. A few shots were fired wildly 
in return, and the scouts, wheeling about, dashed 
back at twice the speed with which they had as- 
cended. 

In half a minute they were among the first body of 
horse that had gone out after them, and turned it; in 
half a minute more the second detachment was met 
and turned in dire confusion, and the whole, with a 
rushing pavilion of dust, came sweeping on our own 
advancing lines; though the enemy refrained from 
pursuing. 

Amood Sinn did not wait for the shock. Raising 
his arms to heaven with the despairing gesture of a 
fatalist, he went about and fled as fast as a fleet 
horse could carry him. His men, too, urged by vivid 
remembrance of the past, promptly followed their 
general’s example, and came pell-mell upon our con- 
tingent in the rear, trampling and battering with 
more than the madness and fury of a foe. I saw then, 
for the first time, that of all terrible spectacles on 
earth the most terrible is the first explosive burst of 
panic-stricken troops. 

For a little, Abou Kuram looked on the demoral- 
ized mob, speechless with horror and anger, then, has- 
tily ordering Koor Ali, who had galloped back, to 
stop the rabble or slay them, he dashed in pursuit of 
Amood Sinn, I following to the best of my ability. 

“ What meaneth this?” he yelled, coming up to the 
scudding general. But Amood Sinn could not stay 
for answer; so Abou Kuram throwing etiquette to 
the winds, clutched at the bridle and brought the fly- 
ing steed on its haunches with a mighty jerk. For a 


232 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


1 

moment his passion denied him utterance, and he only 
glared on his surprised and quaking captive. 

“ This is a seemly thing to do in sight of the whole 
army,” he roared at length, and I thought he would 
have slain the other on the spot. “ This is an exam- 1 
pie to set. Are our names to be branded with shame 
as if we were sick women? Get thy men about, or 
by this right hand I will have them speared like swine 
as they fly.” 

Amood Sinn, answering something in a quick, 1 
shrill voice about the futility of encountering Satan, 
tried to justify the retreat. 

“ How knowest thou he is Satan?” demanded Abou 
Kuram, scornfully. “Methinks thou wert in too 
much haste in getting away, to know what he is, or j' 
even if he be with Yumen Yusel.” 

“Mj t brother is wroth,” answered Amood, insinu- \ 
atingly. “ But he knoweth not what it is to come < 
face to face with the devil.” 

Abou Kuram shook himself in a spasm of disgust. ^ 

“ I knew not,” he cried passionately, “ that I came to 
fight with one whose spirit left him at the thought of < 
battle. This is not a time for words. While we 1 
talk, Yumen Yusel maketh his opportunity out of thy 
fears and delays. Make thy choice quickly. If thou J 
choosest to fly, from this moment reckon me thine I 
enemy. Thou hast fair warning. I will join myself fj 
in slaughter to him whom thou calllest Satan, and j 
there will not so much as a man of thine army es- 1 
cape to tell the tale of thy disgrace.” 

u My brother jesteth,” returned Amood Sinn, with : 
a sickly smile. 

“ Fly, and thou shalt see,” answered Abou Kuram ; \ 
and there was a look on his darkened face that was I 
not to be misunderstood. 

With a double fear now upon him, Amood turned, | 
with what heart a hunted coward might have, to rally | 
his scattered forces. Already they had been checked 
in their headlong flight by our men, who stood with 
& fierce loyalty by their leader’s order, to stop or slay; j 


AMOOD SINN 7 S BRAVERY. 


233 


and Koor Ali, energetically aided by Ismael Yumar, 
was trying to beat them back into some sort of for- 
mation. It took a great deal of exertion, and a lavish 
use of many kinds of language, more profane than 
pious, to induce the cowering wretches to accept the 
definite idea of fighting again. But, partly by vig- 
ourous mauling, partly by threats and coaxing and re- 
proofs, some sort of order was at last evolved out of 
the shameful chaos. As it would be courting disas- 
ter to charge up the hill, it was decided to retire a lit- 
tle distance, marshal ourselves, and await the over- 
tures of the enemy. 

Yumen Yusel’s men were now swarming like a 
cloud of locusts over the billow, and with every 
symptom of leisure and self-confidence, completing 
their arrangements for battle. We were to have oc- 
cupied that height, but, by the chances of war and 
superior generalship, the position fell to the other 
side ; so, as the Scotch say, we stood there and girned 
at them till they were ready to come down. 

I looked intently, as you may suppose, for the man 
on the black horse. At first he was not visible, but 
presently appearing at one side, he rode along the 
lines at a hand gallop . A conspicuous object, all 
eyes were instantly upon him, and many tongues be- 
gan to gabble excitedly. 

“There goeth Satan!” cried Amood Sinn, in the 
screeching tones of fright ; and he fell to cursing the 
man on the black horse with all the curses known to 
the Moslem religion, supplemented by many of his 
own invention. The warrior above, however, in no 
wise affected by the maledictions poured upon his un- 
conscious head, continued to ride to and fro, altering 
formations and dispositions, and otherwise completing 
his preparations for the tussle that was at hand. 

Abou Kuram watched his movements with the in- 
tentness of an active rival. 

“Methinks,” he remarked significantly, “that 
Satan showeth marvellous skill in marshalling an 
army.” 


234 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


“He hath the fallen angel’s skill,” piped Amood. 
Then all at once, and with intense excitement, he 
screamed, “See, see, they are coming! They shall 
destroy us utterly. Hot a man of us shall escape,” 
and he cast a look to the rear (I think in spite of him- 
self) to see if the coast were clear for flight. 

Abou Kuram shot a glance of anger and disgust 
upon him, but said not a word. 

A body of the enemy’s cavalry, consisting of per- 
haps two hundred lances, had detached itself, and was 
coming down the slope at an easy trot. When they 
had advanced a short distance, the camel-men also be- 
gan to move towards us, slowly, and without noise 
or excitement. 

Under the direction of Abou Kuram, who now as- 
sumed supreme command, three hundred lances can- 
tered out from our side to meet those coming down 
the slope. 

The conflict was upon us. Heaven and the Prophet 
steel our hearts and sharpen our blades ! 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE BATTLE. 

When the enemy’s cavalry reached level ground 
they divided, one troop swinging to the right and 
the other to the left, with the evident intention of 
harrying us on both flanks at once, while the camel- 
men, quickening their pace, advanced straight upon 
our centre. Our horsemen, going out at a canter, also 
divided to check the others, and our main force, 
massed after the Arab fashion, waited quietly for the 
attack. 

All eyes were on the cavalry, moving from both 
sides at an easy trot, as if out for morning exercise. 
They made no haste and no noise ; as yet there was 
nothing of the excitement or flurry of battle in their 
behaviour; indeed, to one impatient beholder, they 


THE BATTLE. 


235 


seemed to have forgotten that this was war. that they 
were mortal enemies, and ought, by every martial law 
known to man, to be in each other’s throats with the 
utmost possible despatch. 

Presently they broke into a gallop, and my heart 
bounded at the thought that they were going to close. 
But when they should have burst into the charge, 
both sides wheeled simultaneously, waving their 
lances defiantly, and uttering shrill cries. Again 
they advanced, again wheeled and retired with the 
same truculent display of weapons, and so they went 
on wheeling and circling, but instead of getting 
closer together they drew away, until finally they 
must have been a full quarter of a mile apart. At 
that distance they brought up and stood facing each 
other. Had I known Arab ways better, I should 
have understood that now’ the play was about to begin 
in earnest. Those little preliminary flourishes that 
had set my heart a-beating so violently, were simply 
an introductory ceremony, meant partly to appease 
the Arab passion for show, partly to prick the courage 
of the combatants. 

Meanwhile, Yumen Yusel’s camel-men had pushed 
on, and were now down the slope and well into the 
plain. When within a musket-shot of our frontlines 
they halted. Then, as if by magic, down went every 
camel in both armies, w T hile the musketeers, crouch- 
ing behind their beasts, brought their long match- 
locks to the “ready.” At the same moment the 
opposing bodies of horse that had been standing 
motionless, raising unitedly the fierce war-cry of 
“Techbir! techbir!” started towards each other at the 
full speed of the charge. The next minute came the 
shock of meeting; and far in the rear we felt the 
earth tremble, and heard the deadly grunt and thud 
and clash as the rushing columns came together. As 
the horsemen met, the front lines of musketeers 
opened fire, and the tumult and madness of battle 
were upon us. 

For a little the cavalry rolled and reared in con- 


236 


’IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


fused heaps ; then they scattered, and riderless horses 
began to dareer in all directions ; the canopy of dust 
spread and cleared, and the antagonists retired to 
their respective sides, the enemy showing unmistak- 
able signs of discomfiture. 

At this, such of our men as were disengaged 
raised a ringing shout of triumph, and though Abou 
Kuram said not a word, his glittering eyes declared 
his transport of joy. As for me, I stood in my stir- 
rups waving my sword and yelling with all my 
might, for the hellish feeling — partly unholy glee, 
partly fright, partly a mad desire to kill — which 
seizes a man when he first sees blood actually spilt in 
battle, had possession of me. I quivered like an aspen, 
and was as dry in the mouth as if I had been in the 
thick of the fight for a day. 

Again the cavalry on both sides wheeled, formed, 
and charged ; again they rolled, in convulsive heaps, 
parted with more empty saddles, and yet again re- 
formed and dashed at each other. It was impossible 
to tell which was getting the best of it, for in the 
dust cloud that enveloped them nothing was discerni- 
ble. But there was no doubt on the point when 
presently, instead of forming again, the enemy’s 
horse burst out of the dense mass, and went spurring 
up the hill with ours slashing and stabbing at their 
heels. 

Abou Kuram, unable to control himself, flashed his 
sword in air and vociferated an order; our camel- 
men, slinging their muskets, seized their spears, 
leaped upon their beasts, and, with a resounding roar, 
swept to the charge. Our antagonists were as quick 
as ourselves. In a twinkling they, too, were on 
their camels, and, whooping and yelling with all the 
might of brazen lungs and throats, the lurching 
hosts fell upon each other. 

The commotion of that moment is not to be com- 
prehended save by those who have gone pell-mell into 
that devil’s mess which men name a battle; and I, 
of all men, am least qualified to describe it. For 


THE BATTLE. 


237 


although I was there what did I see? What can any 
one see when he is distracted by noise and confusion, 
and beside himself with a tumult of passions and 
emotions such as have never been named or classified? 
The leaders, I suppose, were masters of themselves; 
they must have been, or we should all have gone mad 
at once ; even with their restraining and steadying in- 
fluence upon us, we must have been perilously near 
madness. For myself, I was as far from calmness as 
a man may be and retain any glimmering of sanity. 
The thing began with fierce peals of cheering that 
gave me the odd sensation of having the top of my 
head blown off ; and before the first burst was spent, 
the pressing ranks were rising, and falling, and tum- 
bling upon each other like waves in a stormy cross-sea. 
My clearest recollection is of Abou Kuram, who 
appeared to be more in his element than I had ever 
seen him. He was here, there, and everywhere, 
directing, encouraging, hewing, and cutting, and 
ever seeking the places where perils were thickest. 

My orders were to keep by his side; but they were 
more easily given than obeyed. A hundred times I 
lost him in the tumbling, whirling eddies of attack 
and recoil ; a hundred times I was struck almost sense- 
less in the bloody crush ; a hundred times I found my- 
self clutching in terror at pommel and mane, as the 
steel clashed and glanced about me ; and as often I 
was on the point of fainting at the sickening sight of 
riven bodies, brute and human. 

I owe it more to the intelligence and dexterity of 
my little mare than to any effort of my own, that I 
was not carved to death. To this hour I cannot 
imagine how I escaped, where so many better men 
were biting the dust. There are few things in this 
world more puzzling than the chances of war, and 
none better calculated to make brave men modest. 

By-and-by I began to understand (a thing more 
difficult than it may seem) that the advantage lay with 
us. I understood it from the fiendish exhilaration of 
our men, from the short, deep coughs of satisfaction 


238 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


with which they drove their weapons home, and from 
the greater proportion of shrieks and empty saddles 
among our opponents. 

The discovery acted like a drug that sets the blood 
on fire. To keep from going stark mad I roared 
myself black in the face, and rode furiously whither- 
soever my goaded mare chose to carry me, sometimes 
among friends, oftener among foes, and always with 
a consuming desire to see my sword run as red as the 
others. 

All this while Yumen Yusel and the man on the 
black horse were posted on the ridge looking down on 
the battle. They might have been mere spectators, 
indifferent to the issue, so remote they seemed from 
the scene of anguish in which two armies were pour- 
ing out their hearts’ blood. But when we began to 
gain, a mounted messenger came galloping down the 
slope, and spoke for a minute or so to the commander 
of Yumen Yusel’s troops. Whatever was his mes- 
sage, it put fresh force and courage into the men; 
for, getting into closer formation, they hurled them- 
selves upon us with a fury that soon gave them back 
their lost ground. But, though we yielded a little, < 
our lances did not slacken in their work. Nay, the 
slicing went on with redoubled energy and oaths that 
were curdling to hear. 

“ Holy Prophet, how they fight !” cried Amood 
Sinn as he and Abou Kuram met for a moment in 
the rear. “ Mine eyes have never beheld such 
slaughter. Look you now at Ismael Numar, how he 
cleaveth heads and heweth off limbs. He shall have 
three more wives and a present of gold for his valour. 
And look you, too, how the good Koor Ali layetli 
about him. I have been watching him, and he 
slayeth like one preparing for the sacrifice. There 
goeth a man severed in two, another, and still another. 
Didst thou ever see the like? He maketh stepping- 
stones to victory of his enemies. He shall have a 
dozen of my choicest slaves. And my brother, too, 
hath done marvellous things. I have seen his blade 


THE BATTLE. 


239 


smiting with the stroke of lightning. He hath left 
the dead in heaps behind him. I will bethink me 
what befitteth him to receive. Yea, and I, too, 
have smitten the foe. I slit a fellow’s ribs as a cook 
would cut open the ribs of a sheep. By my faith, it 
was fine sport.” 

He stopped, and looked over the sanguinary scene. 

“ Our men fight like lions,” he said: then with a 
sudden change of tone, “ yet thinkest thou they are 
being driven back? Doth it appear to thee the enemy 
is gaining just a little, ever so little? If we lose 
ground— but no,” changing voice and manner again, 
“ there they storm home. I profess Koor Ali’s sword 
is crimson an inch deep. And there go our horse- 
men. Glory to the Prophet, the day is ours. Yumen 
Yusel’s men fly — we are conquerors. They fly! 
They fly!” 

They were not flying, but their leader had been 
cut down by one of our cavalrymen, and in the con- 
fusion that followed, they lost ground again. 

“ I told thee the day was ours,” cried Amood Sinn, 
in a transport of childish delight. But he was soon 
singing to another tune. “See, see!” he cried, ere 
the words of rejoicing were well out of his mouth. 
“He cometh, he cometh: Satan cometh! We are 
undone. Who can withstand him? He rideth like 
a whirlwind, and destroyeth as a fire. My brother, 
we are undone.” Abou Kuram made no reply, but 
turned his eyes to the dread warrior on the black 
horse, who was cantering down the slope with a band 
of fifty men mounted on the pick of Arabian studs. 
As the company advanced, it was joined by others, 
till the total must have been equal to half a British 
regiment. 

A contingent promptly went out from our front to 
meet them, Koor Ali leading. There was to be no 
play this time, no circling and wheeling, no retiring 
and advancing for picturesque display. Lance to 
lance, body to body, the issue would be decided and 
no quarter given. Abou Kuram bit his lip in chagrin 


240 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


at being forced to remain in charge of a coward in 
the rear, and watched the seizing events in which he 
could not participate. 

The enemy’s cavalry came on at a round gallop, 
their pennons of ostrich feathers fluttering and stream- 
ing, their faces bent forward on their horses’ necks. 
The leader, however, sat his great black horse erect, 
and held his sword at what I believe British dragoons 
call the slope. There was something in his appear- 
ance that marked him out from his fellows, and I am 
free to confess that with Amood Sinn’s whining in 
my ears, a thrill of superstitious awe passed through 
me at the thought that he might not be mortal. 

As soon as the level plain was gained, he waved 
his sword quickly in the air, and the great black war 
horse broke from the gallop to the charge. We 
could see his fierce leap and the responsive bound 
of those that followed hard behind. Before half a 
dozen horse-lengths were covered, there came to our 
ears a resounding double peal of “Techbir! techbir!” 
for our men, too, were riding at the charging pace; 
and even from our distance we saw how every 
rider, setting himself yet a little forward, hugged 
his lance close under his right arm. I watched 
the mutual swoop with starting eyes and a thump- 
ing heart, with cold tremours at the pit of the 
stomach, and a hot whirl of the brain that was the 
madness of much wine. There were fear and head- 
long audacity in the feeling, a fear that could easily 
have made me turn and fly, an audacity that almost 
impelled me to rush forward and share the delirious 
ecstasy of that onset. 

Nearer and nearer swept the opposing columns like 
two flights of ostriches darkening the sky with dust, 
the horses low and stretched as if reaching in very 
eagerness, the riders alert with a tigerish intentness 
of purpose. No man could have said which side sped 
the more furiously or shouted the louder, none whether 
Koor Ali or the man on the black horse led with the 
more determined valour. 


THE BATTLE. 


241 


There is no resisting the magnetism of a desperate 
exploit enacted under your eyes; and the main bodies 
paused fascinated by the fearful spectacle. On both 
sides the riders drew in knee to knee, in order to have 
the greater driving and resisting power, and crouched 
lower upon their straining horses. The last hundred 
yards were covered, as it were, at a bound, and then, 
with a cry of vengeance from a thousand throats, a 
dazzling flash of steel, a shock as of clashing thunder- 
bolts, came the collision. There was a vibrating 
sensation as of an earthquake, and a rumble of groan- 
ings and cursings reached us as the fighters rolled 
together in a dark seething heap, like the tumbling 
surge of two swift sea-currents meeting. 

My vision was suddenly blurred, and involuntarily 
my eyes closed. When I opened them the combatants 
were through each other and wheeling for another 
charge. Up went the fierce war-cry again ; and again 
came a tremendous shock and tumult, shattering the 
close-packed lines; but, reforming with prodigious 
quickness they dashed at each other again, and yet 
again, with an ever-increasing heap of slain and 
wounded weltering on the ground. 

“ By my father’s sword, it is to be utter annihila- 
tion !” said Abou Kuram, breathing thick and fast. 
“They mean to kill each other out.” 

But almost as he spoke the enemy, bursting once 
more through our lines, were across the intervening 
space and headlong upon our main body, the man on 
the black horse slashing and hewing in front in a 
way that fairly justified the tales of his satanic 
character. At the same time Yumen Yusel’s camel - 
men flung themselves upon us as if they would roll 
us up and trample and cut us to pieces before the 
cavalry could participate in the glory. 

From that moment, so far as I could see, all order 
vanished. There is a theory that in properly planned 
battles things go by method and prearrangement. 
The idea is a pretty one for drawing-room war- 
riors ; but if there were the least truth in it no battle 
16 


242 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


should ever be lost or won. There would be no Mara- 
thon, no Thermopylae, no Waterloo, no Alma, no 
Lucknow to shed lustre on the human race and give 
an interest to desperate hazards. Take my word for 
it that a fight between two armies determined to win 
or die is a thing of heart-shaking surprises and riot- 
ous contempt of regulations. The moment the com- 
mon soldier, panting for revenge or frantic to save 
his skin, takes matters into his own hands, prophecies 
and prearrangements go to the winds. 

The general may plan, but the soldier does the work, 
and commonly in his own way, and in flat defiance 
of orders. In that wallowing, billowy host I dare as- 
sert there were not half a dozen men who knew their 
heads from their heels. Almost every mother’s son 
in the gory chaos cut, and thrust, and stabbed and 
charged, and recoiled, and roared at his own sweet 
will, and in obedience to what might seem, to his 
whirling mind, the exigencies of the occasion. 

As for me, what with incessant knocks and colli- 
sions, the hubbub of rage and agony, the sharp scream 
and envenomed oath, and, most of all, the sickening 
sight of living men being sliced and laid open, my 
wits were so confounded I might have been in the 
throes of a nightmare. I had a sword and a brace 
of pistols, though what I did with them Heaven alone 
knows. They may have accounted for some of the 
enemy, but I have no knowledge of shedding any 
man’s blood, which on the whole is perhaps a conso- 
lation in looking back from the vale of years. 

In the plungings hither and thither of my mare I 
got glimpses of Abou Kuram making flashes of crim- 
son light with his sword, of the man on the black 
horse hewing savagely where there lay the best chance 
of doing havoc, of Ismael Numar and Koor Ali lay- 
ing about them as if they were using pruning hooks 
in a forest of saplings, and of Amood Sinn scurrying 
to and fro in abject terror, fighting the air and ever 
getting into the places he would have given his king- 
dom to be able to avoid. I laughed at him with the 


THE BATTLE. 


243 


hilarity of hysteria, and, I have an idea, cried jeer- 
ing words as well. But how-the tide of war was run- 
ning I knew not, and probably you would not have 
known had you been in my place. 

Once, in a furious swirl, I got knocked out of the 
saddle, but with wild -cat clutch I caught something, 
probably the pommel or mane before me, and was up 
again in a moment, wondering in my own mind 
whether I was mortally wounded or whether I was 
wounded at all ; and as I was trying to decide I came 
upon a sight that drove all thought of self away 
and made me rein up with a jerk. 

In the midst of their partisans, who had formed a 
circle as if to see fair play to the champions, were 
Koor Ali and the man on the black horse in a hand- 
to-hand fight. I do not know how long they had been 
at it before I chanced to see them ; but the contest did 
not last long after my coming up. Koor Ali was a 
good soldier and an expert swordsman, but his fate 
was upon him. The man on the black horse first 
tipped off an ostrich plume from the other’s turban, 
then some ribbons, then he shore a piece off each side, 
as if showing the easy and dainty precision with 
which he handled his weapon. Two or three swift 
passes followed ; then rising quickly in liis stirrups, 
with a lightning-like stroke he clove his antagonist 
from crown to breast-bone, so that half fell either 
way.* From the raised sword hand of the divided 
man dropped the sword, but the arm itself remained 
rigid in the air as if with a final threat of vengeance, 
and there rose from the split throat a shriek which 
haunts me to this day. Then, the horse wheeling 
under a sudden convulsive pull of the bridle hand, the 
body tumbled from the saddle to be mangled by a 
thousand hoofs. 

Waving his blood-red sabre above his head, the 
victor leaped his horse straight into the heart of a 
group of our men ; and the hacking and hewing went 

*As will be seen later on, this stroke was never learned in 

Arabia. 


244 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


on with redoubled ferocity amidst roars of triumph 
from the enemy. _ 

Abou Kuram must have seen what had happened, 
for just then he tore up, his face black with passion, 
and riding over all that obstructed his way, made di- 
rect at the champion of Yumen Y usel. That diabolic 
swordsman catching sight of Abou wheeled, the two 
horses reared together and the blades of the riders met 
with a vicious clash. Both sides sent up a terrific 
shout; for the crucial moment had come. 

Owing to the fierce tumult and crush, I could see 
the fighters only in partial glimpses. But it was plain 
that here were two men who did each other honour, 
plain from the quick sharp swish and ring of their 
swords, and from the transport of the onlookers. Win 
w T ho might, there would be a tale to tell that would 
cause breathless awe and interest in the black tents 
for many a day to come. 

Both armies swayed up in resistless billows to 
watch the encounter ; for on Arabian battle-fields, the 
rank and file at times suspend operations to v T atch 
their betters give and take blows. It was hard to 
imagine, however, that they were mere spectators, 
for in the jam of man and beast, lance and butt end 
were used with the freedom of active conflict, and 
curse and scream still mingled. I was in a condition 
little short of distraction. Carried about like a leaf 
on boiling waters, I should probably have been done 
to death many times over, but for the amazing inge- 
nuity and agility of my mare in dodging in the crisis 
of a press. 

I judged of the progress of the fight by the varying 
behaviour of the partisans who were nearest the' cen- 
tre. Once or twice I had a terrible glimpse of two 
furious men reaching for each other with flashing 
weapons, on horses that seemed to rear and grapple 
like lions. But I could not tell how the advantage lay. 

I was soon to know. Suddenly, Yumen Yusel’s 
men broke into a deep roar that sent the blood dizzily 
to my head, and made me dash into the thickest of 


THE BATTLE. 


245 


the crush regardless of peril. I was just in time to 
see the end. 

The man on the black horse had evident^ estimated 
the skill and strength of his antagonist, and had be- 
gun his old game. Down came Abou Kuram’s bob- 
bing ostrich plume; then, so quickly that the shear- 
ing instrument was a darting sunbeam, the crest of 
his turban followed. Then, both horses rearing upon 
each other, there was a wild leap to either side as 
the spurs went wickedly home, but ere the black 
charger had well touched ground he swung rapidly 
round as on a pivot. The next second Abou Kuram, 
too, was about, but as he turned, his sword arm 
dropped by his side almost clean cut from the shoul- 
der, and the sword itself went rattling among his 
horse’s hoofs. The lightning could not have hit 
quicker than did the man on the black horse, nor 
caused keener dismay and amazement. He made a 
pass as if to run the wounded man through the body, 
but changing his mind, he struck spurs to his 
charger, and once more leaped in among our men, 
mowing a way for himself like a reaper in a field of 
barley. 

The scene that followed is not to be described. 
Breaking like an overcharged dam, our men rushed 
in headlong tumultuous rout to all points of the com- 
pass, cursing, screeching, trampling, and stabbing 
each other in the fury of their flight, and the lances 
of the conquerors were hard behind, wreaking a pent- 
up vengeance. 

In a momentary block of the sweeping torrent, 
which carried me with it as a piece of broken drift- 
wood, Yu men Yusel’s champion slashed his way 
across my front, so that I saw his face full for the first 
time. My heart was thumping against my ribs with 
fear and excitement, but when I looked on him it 
stopped, and I gazed with open mouth. Where had 
I seen that face so familiar, so handsome, even in its 
terror? In a dream of the night, in a waking vision? 
Like a flash came the answer. That was the original 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


246 

of the miniature I held in my breast. As the knowl- 
edge came to me he dashed in another direction, and 
I, finding my tongue, screamed after him, “ Donald 
Gordon! Donald Gordon!” I fancied he turned at 
the cry; but the racing, plunging tide carried me off, 
and my . shouts were drowned in the uproar of the 
shrieking fiends who had conquered. The next min- 
ute I was riding for my life in the middle of a band 
of fugitives with half a hundred cruel lances hard at 
our back. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

THE FLIGHT. 

A total and irredeemable rout with the frenzied 
victors amuck among the shattered ranks of the van- 
quished is a thing not to be described by any one 
sharing in the panic or the havoc of it. We flew as 
men fly from death only — blindly, desperately, know- 
ing neither where we went nor what we did. We 
were possessed by one wild compulsive idea — to get 
away as fast as hoof could carry us beyond the reach 
of those mutilating spears : and in the distraction and 
fury of fear we rode each other down without heed or 
pity. Horsemen plunged into camel-men, camel- 
men into horsemen ; friend cursed friend for barring 
the way, and smote frantically, the striker caring not 
if the blood of a fellow were spilled so only he himself 
escaped. 

Quarter was never so much as thought of on either 
side; for vengeance, fired by fanaticism, doefe not 
spare, nor does the terror it inspires plead. The drip- 
ping lances sped like weavers’ shuttles, and the 
shrieks of the butchered mingled with the oaths of 
the butchers, who swore because they could not clear 
their points quick enough. With grunts of hellish 
glee from foaming mouths, the red points were sent 
home, and the victims went down screaming, to be 
finished under foot. 


THE FLIGHT. 


247 


By degrees the fugitives began to scatter, and pres- 
ently I found myself tearing along in a little group of 
half a dozen, my heart in my mouth, and just sense 
enough left to know that a gush of blood was soaking 
my right leg. Whence it issued I had not the least 
idea. Nor could I tell whether had I one hurt or 
many hurts. Feeling in my distraught condition there 
was none, and examination was impossible. A mo- 
ment’s delay would mean a dozen lances in my body; 
so, heedless of wounds, i fled, with all the speed that 
terror and spurs could put into the fleetest steed that 
ever carried man from such an Aceldama. With 
stretched neck, and ears laid back like a hare’s in the 
chase, my little mare seemed rather to fly than to 
tread the earth ; and well it was I was on the back 
of a Kohlan in her prime, or the hyenas would that 
night have had one corpse more to tear. 

Venturing to glance about me by-and-by, I found 
that I was riding alone, that no officer was within 
sight, nor indeed any one I knew, save Tabal, the 
son of my old benefactor, Said Achmet. He was a 
short distance to the right and ahead of me, and was 
urging his beast with all the might of voice and stick. 
I shouted to him; he turned quickly sideways, but 
before he saw me lie threw up his arms, gave a queer 
cry, and rolled to the ground. Mechanically, for I 
was not capable of thought, I wheeled towards him, 
leaped down, and in a second was up again, with 
Tabal lying across the saddle before me. Do not stay 
to ask how I did it. If ever you come to be in a life- 
and-death strait you will find that the nerves and 
muscles can act independently when the wits are gone. 
The thing was done, and done before I knew I had 
undertaken it. 

Starting again, I cast an eye over my shoulder, 
to see three of the enemy’s horsemen coming full tilt 
upon me with levelled lances. Discerning it was to 
be a neck-and-neck race for life, I touched my little 
mare with the spurs, and though now carrying dou- 
ble, she skimmed along with the speed of the ostrich, 


248 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


quickly distancing our pursuers, who turned to easier 
game. But glancing backward again present^, I 
saw with fresh dismay three other horsemen coming 
at me sideways, at the pace of the tempest. From 
their looks I judged them at once to be Bedouins, 
genuine cruel children of the desert, of whom large 
numbers were attracted to the standard of Yumen 
Yusel by the glorious prospects of spoil. They had 
singled me out, and were riding for death and booty, 
evidently under the impression that my companion 
must be a man of rank and wealth. It was a natural 
conclusion that no effort would be made to save a 
common soldier ; he would be left to die where he fell. 

I looked into the face of Tabal to see whether he 
were dead, for he had not spoken a word since I had 
lifted him. If he were a corpse it would be the sheer- 
est madness to encumber myself with him. But when 
I bawled in his ear he opened his e} T es slowly and 
winked at me comically, like one awaking from odd 
dreams. 

“Are you much hurt?” I shouted at the pitch of 
my voice. 

He wriggled his left shoulder, and the movement 
brought a gush of blood. 

“There,” he answered faintly. 

“You must sit up,” I said quickly; “our lives de- 
pend upon it.” 

He made an effort, I assisting, and though he 
swayed considerably from lightheadedness, he man- 
aged, with my aid, to keep upright. 

The Bedouins, meanwhile, had gained upon me, 
and were shouting riotously in anticipation of an eaky 
capture. Doubtless they concluded that no horse car- 
rying double could get away from them ; but I thought 
to myself, with a pride which even fear could not 
wholly overcome, that they little knew the mettle of 
my Fatema. Her load once fairly adjusted, she 
would lead them such a dance as they might talk of 
with wonder for the rest of their lives. Nor did I 
calculate amiss. At a touch on the rein she mended 


THE FLIGHT. 


249 


her pace with an apparent ease and buoyancy that 
made my heart beat a fierce tattoo of joy. It was 
short-lived, however. I had forgotten we were in a 
land where horses are swift as eagles, where every 
hack might be handicapped against an English racer. 
The Bedouins, too, were splendidly mounted, and in- 
stead of abandoning the chase, came on with a double 
fury that threw the odds heavily to their side. 

Scarcely knowing what I did, I drove the rowels 
deep into my mare’s flanks. She turned up a re- 
proachful eye and a distended fiery nostril, as if to 
say she was already doing her utmost. Neverthe- 
less, she bounded on, her neck a little more craned, 
her ears a little flatter, her forefeet forging out a lit- 
tle further. Whatever horse could do, she would; 
that was the sentiment of her response. 

Casting a backward look I tingled with gladness 
to find that, in spite of her heavy burden, she was 
keeping her own. But immediately I asked myself the 
crucial question how long she could maintain that 
terrific pace ; for the pursuers were as hot behind as 
ever. With the corner of my eye I could see their 
horses reaching like greyhounds, their heads low, 
their nozzles straight out, and the black faces of the 
riders themselves thrust forward like the beaks of vul- 
tures. I touched my mare again. Faster and faster 
she sped in her arrowy flight, as if she knew the ter- 
rible need that was upon her, and close in her track 
came the Bedouins, like beagles on the trail yelping 
for blood. 

The next time I turned to note their progress, I 
was horrified to see they were gaining upon me. 
There could not be the least doubt that the distance 
between us was diminished. My flesh crept together 
at the discovery, so that I must have shrunk to half 
my natural size. What was to be done? To fight or 
surrender was to be ripped on the spot, for I was 
hampered, and the pursuers were merciless. The sole 
resource was speed, and of it I was already availing 
myself to the utmost. Four feet could not do more 


250 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


than my mare was doing for me. I might save my- 
self, indeed, but I could not abandon Tabal, the more 
especially that having recovered his senses, he was 
now begging piteously to be taken away from those 
gleaming crimson lances. Could my mare carry both? 
That again was the question of questions. 

Looking mechanically round, as a man will for aid, 
in moments of dire need, I saw some distance to the 
left, and a trifle in our rear, a single horseman hard 
pressed by two Bedouins, companions, as I took it, of 
those who were chasing me. His nose was buried in 
his charger’s mane, and his spurred heels were clapped 
fast to its frothing flanks. The race was bound for 
bound of pursuers and pursued. The fugitive seemed 
just able to hold his own, and with good luck might 
get off. But the Bedouins were not to rely on hard 
riding alone. Finding the reach too great for their 
spears, one of them quickly unslung bis musket, eased 
slightly, and took aim. There was a crack, a puff of 
white smoke, and the man in front toppled over his 
horse’s head. I saw no more of him, but a piercing 
scream that mingled with the yells of triumph, told 
all too plainly of his fate. 

The horse bounded on with empty saddle, veering 
in my direction. On noticing this a flashing inspir- 
ation came upon me, an inspiration that sent the 
blood surging in a buzzing tide to the 'brain, so that 
all at once there seemed to be the voice of an infinite 
number of waters in my ears. For one instant I was 
dizzy with my own audacity; the next my resolution 
was fixed and definite. I would catch the horse, and 
either put Tabal on his back or get there myself. 

Swerving slightly to head off, as men do in captur- 
ing wild animals on the prairie, I drove the spurs with 
all my might into my little mare. It was cruel, see- 
ing how nobly she was already doing, but this last 
providential chance must not be missed from any 
weak sentiment about cruelty. She sprang forward 
with a flash of the eye, now almost as red as her nos- 
tril, and a shower of spume from her mouth. 


THE FLIGHT. 


251 


My pursuers, quick as hawks in detecting the shifts 
of the quarry, must have perceived my intention, for 
like bolts from a strong bow, two made for the run- 
away horse, while the third came straight upon me. 
Setting my teeth, and gathering myself so as to put 
all my force into the stroke, I drove the rowels home 
again. My poor mare groaned with the pain of it, 
and leaped like a wounded deer. But what were her 
sufferings set against my life? If ever she flew, she 
must fly now, when fleetness alone could save ; so the 
long Arabian spurs, which are never used save in the 
crisis of distress, dug deep into her again and again, 
and again and again she gave that pitiful groan and 
that desperate bound. 

Horses love compan3 T , particularly when they have 
been trained to military service. To my consterna- 
tion I saw the runaway make for the two Bedouins. 
Almost before I realized what was happening he was 
between them, and then each leaning inward clutched 
at the trailing bridle. My heart stopped as I expected 
to see him go on his haunches. But either the move- 
ment frightened him into an unexpected dash, or they 
were clumsy; for with a mighty jump and a furious 
tossing of the mane he shot free of them, and came 
careering on alone. 

With a reeling sensation of hope and despair, I made 
at him once more. Taking the rein in my teeth, in 
order to have the free use of both hands, I helped 
Tabal to a firmer seat, gasping my purpose in his ear. 
When he was placed I gave him the rein, with in- 
structions that so soon as I left the mare’s back he 
was to consider me no more, but look to himself. 
Then, sitting a little farther back and clear of the sad- 
dle, I drew myself up into a sort of crouching posture 
and prepared for a spring. On came the runaway on 
the right. In another moment he was alongside, but 
too wide for our track. Tabal pulled his rein, and the 
animals nearly collided. Then, with something of 
that gathering of the flesh with which a timid bather 
plunges headlong into water, I flung myself upon the 


252 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


strange horse, intending to alight crosswise on his 
back. He shied, and I fell short, just managing to 
find the pommel with my left hand, so that instead of 
being on his back I was hanging by his side. 

The hold was perilously slender, but the tense fin- 
gers held like hooks of iron. Adjusting my grip 
quietly for a moment till I got my breath, I was just 
on the point of pulling myself up, after the manner of 
gymnasts, in order to swing into the saddle, when a 
spear came whistling through the air, catching- my 
horse somewhere in the hind quarter. He seemed to 
curl under me as the broad point pierced his flesh, then 
snorting with fear and pain he sprang high into the 
air, shaking himself so that I was nearly cast to the 
ground. I thought he had been struck in the vitals, 
and that my time was come ; but after a few demented 
leaps he turned and bolted off in a new direction, I 
dangling helpless and stunned by his side. 

Clinging to girth and pommel with every nerve 
and muscle, with every sense and faculty, bumped and 
buffeted, so that the wind was often knocked clean out 
of me, and the world seemed whirling away into dark- 
ness and nothingness, I was dragged along at the 
speed of lightning. To hold on for many minutes in 
that position was beyond human power, and to let go 
meant instant destruction. Had I been able to get 
my toes steady on the earth for half a second, I could 
have sprung astride the flying animal, but at that 
fearful velocity, the thing was beyond a tiger’s agil- 
ity. Yet, if something could not be done, and done 
quickly, I felt it would be better to breathe a prayer 
and let the agony end. 

Small things are momentous in decisive moments ; 
and sometimes weakness is salvation. Bit by bit the 
quivering grasp relaxed, and I gradually sank lower 
and lower, till half my length trailed on the ground. 

Two or three more little slips and my enemies could 
work their will. A strange dizziness was already 
coming upon me, when my knee struck some protub- 
erance, so that, with the hurricane speed, I bounded 


THE FLIGHT. 


253 


like a ball. I was not yet too far gone to see my op- 
portunity. Finding myself well in the air, I concen- 
trated all my strength, drawing fiercely with the left 
hand. The lax muscles turned to steel in the moment 
of supreme need. I rose, and, holding my breath, 
shot my right hand across the saddle. The hooked 
fingers caught something, and the next moment, 
wriggling, panting, and almost blind from excite- 
ment an exhaustion, I lay half across the horse’s back. 
Then, with another mighty effort, I wriggled further 
up, and before I knew it, was in the saddle and reach- 
ing for the rein. As I got it a yell of rage went up 
close behind, and another spear, less true in aim than 
the first, whizzed past and buried itself in the sand. 

The sensations of the next few minutes were such 
as a man may not experience twice and live. Crouched 
with my long spurs deep in my horse’s sides, my heart 
afraid to beat, and the cold sweat-drops falling from 
my face, I pelted on, listening to the fateful thud of 
hoofs and the cries and curses close behind, and know- 
ing that the spears were levelled to strike. I felt as 
the stag must feel that, straining its utmost, manages 
to keep just a tongue’s length in front of the foremost 
hound. The least weakness, the most trivial mishap, 
the breaking of the girth, the stumbling or slipping 
of my horse, the slackening of the pace for so much 
as the tenth part of a second, and the desert would 
drink my blood. 

Whither I was going, or whether there were many 
or few in chase, I could not tell. I saw nothing but 
a jumbled feverish vision of a low craned head of a 
horse, a flying mane, and a pair of reaching forefeet 
that never seemed to touch the ground, but in my 
ears was a noise that told me death was riding hard 
at my back. 

The spume flakes flew up from my horse’s mouth, 
wetting my face, and soon I became aware of an 
ominous heave of his flanks; now and then, too, I had 
a glimpse of a red eye and a nostril, like “ a pit full of 
blood.” It was sheer cruelty to goad him on. But 


254 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


what were considerations of cruelty to one with three 
fiends stretching within three yards for his life? Like 
Lady Macbeth in the height of her murderous mood, 
I was filled from the crown to the toe top full of direst 
cruelty. So the heavy spurs were plied as fast and as 
hard as heel could drive them, in spite of the groan- 
ings and shakings of my victim. 

So great was the strain of terror that it may well be 
imagined no fresh alarm could affect me. Yet, when 
a vicious cry went up, as it appeared at my very ear, 
betokening, as I fancied, the triumph of the Bedou- 
ins, I shut m} T eyes with a creeping shuddering hor- 
ror that made me give a little scream. I rode in dark- 
ness for what seemed, an endless time, momentarily 
expecting the thrust of cold steel in the small of the 
back. As it did not come, I ventured to open my 
eyes, but I durst not look behind. 

It was now high noon, and the sun an incandescent 
globe overhead. There may have been clouds in the 
sky, but assuredly there was neither shadow nor 
breath of moving air on the earth. I stewed in my 
soaked clothes as if dissolving over a slow fire; and 
gasped and wheezed like an asthmatic shut up in an 
oven. For the quivering, simmering heat not only 
broiled the body, but was as a stinging acid in the eyes 
and nostrils, and as burning fumes in the lungs. 

All at once, there came a sharp puff of wind, not 
sweet and refreshing, but charged with more poisons 
than ever chemist dreamed of. Looking upward I saw 
a great glare in the sky, as if it were the reflection of 
some vast conflagration; and even as I looked the 
glare swiftly deepened till it appeared the heavens 
themselves were on fire ; then the fiery redness was 
suddenly overcast, and a dull coppery hue took its 
place, this yielding in turn, and ver3 r quickly, to a 
dark purple, and that again to a deep black. All the 
while the wind came in spurts of even greater force 
and longer duration. I was wondering what all this 
might mean when there burst upon my ear a great 
prolonged roar, as of a mighty flood, lashed to fury, 


THE FLIGHT. 


255 


and turning to the right hand quarter I saw a porten- 
tous black cloud rushing towards me with inconceiv- 
able velocity. The look showed me, too, that I was 
riding alone; the Bedouins had abandoned the chase, 
and were now tearing off in a course of their own. 

1 had not taken in the situation when I was envel- 
oped in darkness, and gasping, as if a bottle of vola- 
tile salts had been pressed to my nose. At the same 
time, the wind nearly tore me from my seat, and 
though I could see nothing, I felt that my horse had 
turned tail to the blast, and was drifting like a ship 
in a gale, or cattle in a driving Highland snowstorm. 
I hugged his neck, and my mantle Hew over my head. 
Well for me it did; for this was the dreaded simoon, 
before which all Arabia falls down and covers its face 
as close as cloth will roll. I lay unable to breathe, 
and in exquisite torture, my horse all the while scud- 
ding before the tempest. He stumbled often, and 
would have lain down, but that I kept the spurs to 
him. Had he had his will, in less than half a minute 
we should both have been buried beneath a wreath of 
sand, to lie there until the winds came again to un- 
earth our bleaching skeletons. 

The storm passed on like a solid wall, and, as if 
by magic, the atmosphere cleared, though I could 
still see the black line of the whirlwind far ahead. I 
looked eagerly about for company, but found myself 
completely alone. No Bedouins in pursuit. No Bed- 
ouins in sight, nor, indeed^ any living thing. The 
simoon had given me my life, but it left me desolate. 

Dismounting, and looping the bridle over my arm, 
I walked a little bit, shaking loads of sand from the 
folds of my dress. My right leg, however, was so 
sore and stiff that I was soon compelled to sit down, 
though it was a long time before I had any heart for 
surgery. When, at length, I got sufficient command 
of my nerves to undertake an examination, I found 
myself with an ugly gash in the right thigh, from the 
depths of which blood still oozed. The clotted outer 
edges were fast hardening and stiffening, so that the 


256 IN THE HAY OP BATTLE. 

pain grew cruelly intense. Perhaps it was because 
attention was directed to my hurt that it became all 
at once so sensitive, but the smallest movement now 
caused a pang that cut the breath like a stab. Be- 
sides, I was in a raging fever of thirst. A water-skin 
dangled from my saddle bow, and I reached for it in 
hope of relief. It was already cracking and shrivel- 
ling in the furnace-like heat, but there was a chance 
that some of the precious contents might still remain. 
Now that the idea of it came to me, my whole being 
called out vehemently for a mouthful of water as the 
sole hope of life ; nothing else could save me. 

Eagerly pushing the dented sides of the skin apart, 
I looked in. The dazzled eyes saw only a vacant 
blackness. Merciful Heaven, it could not be that the 
skin was empty ! I peered deeper and deeper. My 
vision must be at fault, for if I did not see water I 
certainly smelled it. Thrusting in my hand, I brought 
out a handful of mud, the refuse of some well tram- 
pled into foulness by struggling perishing men and 
beasts. The skin dropped from my nerveless fingers, 
and the oozy sediment came dribbling out. Before I 
knew what I was about I was sucking it for dear life; 
but it stank so poisonously that I had to spit it out 
immediately. Yet moisture of any sort was too pre- 
cious to be wasted, so I emptied the trickling mire 
upon my baking wound, rubbing it in with my fin- 
ger as a smearer rubs his tar into the divided fleece 
of a sheep. I cannot say. that the application in the 
least assuaged the pain. And the disappointment of 
finding the skin empty gave an acuter ache to the 
throbbing of my inflamed throat and lips. Oh, for a 
single drop, just one drop, of clear, cool water, to ease 
that fiery torture ! Worlds upon worlds would I have 
given for so much liquid as lies on the petal of a 
daisy at dawn, and worlds upon worlds could not have 
purchased the boon. 

I bandaged the wound, that is to say, I bound it 
roughly with a rag torn from my long Arab shirt. 
But what mattered it whether it was attended to or 


THE FLIGHT. 


257 


not? Why defer paying a debt that is exacted of all 
men? Would it not be best to let Death distrain at 
once, and have done with “this fever called living”? 
Utterly worn out with fatigue and fright and excite- 
ment, I was tired of being the sport of destiny. To 
think of triumphing over her was a fool’s thought. 
No man had done it, no man would or could do it. 
Why should I prolong a bootless strife? The cry of 
the sick heart was the cry of the ancient Celt — 

“ How evil was the lot allotted to Llywarch the 
night when he was brought forth ! Sorrows without 
end, and no deliverance from his burden.” 

No deliverance from his burden! That was the 
sentence of old, it was the sentence still. A galling 
struggle, tragically relieved by momentary illusions 
of hope and happiness, endless humiliations, crushing 
defeat, and at last inevitable death. Yet it was hard 
to die, hard to think calmly of one’s own bones being 
picked by those vultures which were already hovering 
above me in anticipation of a corpse to feed on. I 
was not yet philosopher enough for that. 

Crouching on the sand, my head sank deep between 
my knees in an agony of despair, the sun beat down 
as if the heavens were a vault of fire, and millions of 
quivering arrows seemed to dart along my spine. It 
was rapidly driving me crazy. I was going mad with 
the consciousness of the calamity full upon me. Mer- 
ciful God, I was to die a raving maniac in the burn- 
ing wilderness ! The thought thrilled for an instant 
in the brain, making me shiver as with a sudden 
chill, and then came a strange calm. That at least 
could be prevented. Drawing my sword, I felt its 
edge, thinking of Saul in his defeat. The blade was 
of Damascus steel and as keen as a razor. A moment’s 
courage and all would be over; so sharp an istrument 
could cause little pain, nothing to what I was already 
suffering. 

I learned then that a man may take his own life 
smiling. I turned the edge inward towards the throat, 
glad that I had found such easy means of escape. A 
17 


258 


IN THE DAY OP BATTLE. 


moment’s courage, I kept saying to myself — no more 
— then everlasting relief. The edge touched the bare 
skin, and I leaped to my feet screaming with unut- 
terable horror. No! No! I could not do that, the 
canon of the Almighty was clean against self-slaugh- 
ter. Shaking like a leaf in the gale, with an unspeak- 
able tumult of emotion, I fell prostrate on my face, 
and prayed for strength and pardon. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

DESPAIR AND HOPE. 

Getting back to my crouching posture, I threw 
my mantle over my head as a kind of screen ; but 
while it mitigated the blaze of the sun it smothered me. 
Casting it off, therefore, I rose, still trembling 
violently, and looked about, vaguely, I think, expect- , 
ing aid. Not a living thing was within sight or 
sound, inimitably to every point spread the grey 
waste of burning sand, hot as the marl that scorched 
the feet of Satan in his defiant and impious journey. 
Above was a ball of living fire ; below, an arid lifeless 
plain, radiating a blinding, choking heat like an 
infinite lime'-kiln; naught else to be seen, save far 
away to the west, dim, pale peaks that might be the 
thin veil of dissolving clouds. 

I tried to walk by way of diversion, but reeled and 
staggered, so that I was fain to sit down again. 
Perceiving that my horse now cast a shadow I crept 
into it, and huddled there, with drooping head, and 
aching heart, and the reproaches of conscience for 
company, thought bitterly of what might have been 
but for my own perversity. 

At that moment the heather about Glenrae was in 
full bloom, making the air a distilled essence of honey, 
and the bees, with the drowsy song that had so often 
been a soothing 'melody in my ears, were thriftily 
preparing for winter; and shepherds were whistling 


DESPAIR AND HOPE. 


250 


and calling from crag-tops, their voices blending in 
a far-off music, with the barking of dogs and the 
bleating of sheep; and golden butns were leaping 
down green and purple hillsides; and over all was a 
soft, blue sky with masses of cool white clouds. How 
vividly it all rose before the eye of imagination! 
Many and many a time in the languorous summer 
days I had laved my bare limbs in those pellucid 
waters, and watched the flashing of silvery fin and 
scale as the trout darted under bank or stone, and. lain 
on my back in some shady place, looking up at snowy 
fleets, touched with pink and rose, sailing on an in- 
verted ocean. And to think of all that now! It was 
as the vision of Dives when, raising his eyes from 
his place of torment, he beheld the felicity of 
Lazarus. Peace brooded like a guardian spirit over 
Glenrae and the Elms, amid their quiet encircling 
hills, and the affectionate souls there were the blither 
because they thought I was happy and prosperous. 
Would no sympathetic spirit tell them of my condi- 
tion? But their ignorance was part of my punish- 
ment. I had once been in paradise, too, and fell by 
rebellion. As we make our bed, so must we lie. 

In the midst of my dream I remember that my 
pipes and some other things I cherished were with 
Tabal and my mare. But luckily, all the relics of 
past happiness were not lost. Undoing the folds of 
my dress I drew forth my mother’s Bible, and with 
it the two bunches of white heather (now sadly 
withered and crushed) that Isabel had given me. The 
heather I put carefully back with as tender a caress 
as if it were a sentient being capable of feeling and re- 
turning affection. When I should have ceased from 
troubling it would be found next my heart, evidence 
of at least one faith kept to the bitter end; and, who 
knew, some good angel might whisper to Isabel, in 
a dream, that far off, and in his last dire extremity, 
somebody’s thoughts had gone forth to her. And 
sometimes in the pensive gloaming, when the mind 
roams, she might think, in spite of the grandeur and 


260 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


happiness that were sure to be her lot, of one whose 
lonely grave she could never know, and whose love 
was no more than a guess to her. Futile and boyish, 
yet strangely comforting reflections ! 

The Bible I opened at random, and lo! there lay 
before me the wondrous story of Job. 

“And now my soul is poured out upon me; the 
days of affliction have taken hold upon me,” so my 
dim eyes read. But I knew the moving drama by 
heart. Long ago, amid far-off, happy scenes, it had 
been learned by my mother’s side. And I thrilled 
eeriely at the thought that it was in this scorched 
land where I was now lying, under these very skies 
that were burning my life out, that Job had groaned 
in bitterness of soul. 

All mankind are one in distress: the Jew and the 
Gentile, the ci vili zed and the barbarian . Immediately 
there was established a mystic brotherhood between 
me and the man of Uz. Uncounted ages had rolled 
by since he had suffered. In the interval, things of 
vast and vital moment had come and gone and been 
forgotten ; but the tragedy of the race went on. W ith 
a trifling outward difference, a mere matter of time 
and circumstance, Job’s case was mine. Well, his 
afflictions were over long ago ; mine also would soon 
end. And so moralizing and turning the leaves, I 
came to the gracious promise : — 

“ There shall be a tabernacle for a shadow in the 
daytime from the heat, and for a place of refuge, and 
for a covert from storm and rain.” 

And again — 

“ Then shall the lame man leap as an hart, and the 
tongue of the dumb sing : for in the wilderness shall 
waters break out, and streams in the desert.” 

And yet again — 

“ When thou passest through the waters, I will be 
with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not over- 
flow thee : when thou walkest through the fire, thou 
shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle 
upon thee.” 


DESPAIR AND HOPE. 


261 


And once more — 

“ The Lord will be a refuge in time of trouble.” 

“ He shall call upon Me, and I will answer him : 
I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, 
and honour him.” 

“ I will not leave thee, nor forsake thee.” 

It was surely enough. A prayer, oh! doubting 
heart, and courage even now. 

The courage was urgently needed and sorely tried, 
not less by physical than by mental ills. Every inch 
of my body was a burning ache. My wound pained 
me more and more; my head throbbed like a steam 
boiler, and lips and tongue were as if flayed and laid 
on smouldering ashes. Not so much as the remnant 
of a spittle was left to moisten them. I opened my 
mouth and a rush of blistering air went down my 
throat, scorching my lungs to their roots; I closed it, 
and the dry flesh cracked so that the blood squirted 
out. Let the man who would feed fat his revenge, 
have his enemy sent out and baked alive under an 
Arabian sun in full blaze. The Inquisition never 
invented a torture half so cruel as that slow process 
of broiling by the immitigable heavens. 

My poor horse was likewise in a far-gone condi- 
tion. The foam was crusted hard about his mouth 
and flanks, his nostrils were wide, dry, and fiery, his 
head hung, and his black, swollen tongue protruded. 
Yet he remained as steady as a rock, sheltering me 
in his shadow. At intervals he turned and looked at 
me, and once he whinnied softly, as if out of pure 
pity and comradeship. 

By-and-by there came a change. The flaming sky 
was overcast, the shimmering sand turned a dull 
drab, and' after a while, dark clouds began to gather 
in the south. Then a tepid, relaxing wind blew from 
the same quarter, bringing an electric sultriness in 
place of the white heat. After a little the wind 
ceased, and a dead calm fell. 

The atmosphere seemed to have suddenly grown 
solid, and to be weighing upon the world like a canopy 


202 IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 

of molten lead. Breathing had been a difficulty 
before; it was a positive pain now. My horse grew 
restive, snorting, pawing the ground and sniffing at 
the far darkness, now fast spreading and deepening. 

All at once, out of the deathly stillness, came a 
little blast of wind that tossed the sand spitefully in 
my face, and passed on w T ith a weird, uncanny wail. 
Another and another followed, with a low, hopeless 
moan as of incurable sorrow. Then silence again, so 
deep that to my beating senses it was audible. It 
was as if a great invisible host were treading the 
loose earth, and filling the air — an endless procession 
passing on into the inane. And let me tell you that 
the awesome sound of unshod silence is thing to 
make the hair rise on the head, and the flesh creep on 
the bones. I spoke to my horse for the sake of com- 
pany, and my words were a ghostty gibber: I shud- 
dered at the sound of my own voice. 

The darkness was soon an inky blackness. The 
sullen heavens were descending, and impenetrable 
clouds were marshalling in forbidding ramparts along 
the sky-line of the south. Then a lambent fire began * 
to flicker about the outer edges of the dense masses, 
and presently there was borne to my ears the long 
roll of incipient thunder. A few minutes later, big 
drops of rain began to patter on the sand, sending up 
volumes of dusty steam. 

I got to my feet with joy unspeakable. Praise be 
to Heaven, my cry for help had been heard and an- 
swered. I was saved — saved from the vultures and 
the heaping sands. Man is an insignificant atom in 
the scale of the universe; yet easily believes him- 
self the object of a special providence. Here were 
the streams of water in the desert sent for me, and 
me alone. I wept with awe and gratitude. 

The rain came thicker and faster, first a shower, 
and then a deluge. The sun was eclipsed ; the dome 
overhead seemed to be cracking and rending as at the 
blast of the last trump. And indeed, to me, it was 
little less than a resurrection. Here was water, and 


DESPAIR AND HOPE. 


263 


water was life. The thunder roared ever nearer and 
louder, till worlds of wrecked matter seemed to be 
crashing about my head. My ears were stunned by 
the exploding bolts, and on my face I felt the hot 
smack of the forked lightning, that made the wilder- 
ness as a sea of fire. But through it all, the benef- 
icent rain came down in sheets, drenching me not 
merely to the skin, but to the very marrow. With 
upturned face and open mouth, I slaked my baking 
throat ; and as I drank with ten times the greediness 
of the fevered drunkard, I could see n^ horse, too, 
with his nozzle turned to the pouring skies. 

Far into the night the storm boomed and poured. 
I lay stretched full length on the soaking sands, 
slowly turning over and over so that the blessed flood 
might enter at every pore. It was impossible to 
have too much of that Heaven’s gift, and I would 
not miss a drop of it. Nor, while revelling in the 
shower-bath, did I forget to fill my water-skin against 
future needs. 

Now and again I had glimpses of crouching forms, 
with eyes that matched the lightning, ready to pounce 
upon me; but, somehow, they never came to the 
spring. In the air, too, were wheeling things that 
would swoop down and then dart off with a cry of 
disappointment, at finding the expected corpse a 
living man. 

In the early morning the storm died away, and 
the stars came out in a crystalline, dewy azure, that 
was as the cool blue bosom of a summer lake. Not 
daring to sleep I lay and looked up at them, medi- 
tating on the marvels they must have seen in the 
course of the countless ages. But though my thoughts 
were serious enough (and with good reason), they had 
not the gloom of the night before. 

I had leisure to ponder many things besides the 
stars, such as the strange fate that had led me hither, 
the perils and hardships that were past, those that 
might still be to come, the fate of my late com- 
panions, and my own present condition. But, as you 


264 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


may imagine, the subject that was uppermost in my 
mind was the miraculous meeting with Donald 
Gordon; for, on looking again at my miniature, I was 
established in the belief that the man on the black 
horse was none other than he. What, in the name of 
all the wonders, had brought him to this strange quar- 
ter of the globe? and how came he to be fighting for 
Yumen Yusel? These were questions I could not 
answer; perhaps I did not try very hard to answer 
them. For I was occupied with the cardinal fact that 
beyond all doubt Donald was in Arabia, that I had 
seen him face to face, had even spoken to him, and 
got a hurried glance in response. But for the sudden 
mishaps of war, I would have declared myself to him, 
and he would have become my friend and protector. 
In the most unexpected way, my mission came near a 
happy accomplishment, yet, exasperating to think, 
had failed as utterly as if we had been as wide apart 
as the poles. The total failure on the verge of so 
dramatic a success, was another cruel stroke of, that 
malicious fortune that pursued me so relentlessly. 
But, with a spark of the fire that I had thought 
dead, I told myself that I would not be conquered. 
Donald Gordon was in Arabia, and I would find him, 
nay more, would carry him triumphantly back to 
Scotland and his friends. As this bold, high project 
stirred me, I had a vision of two sun-embrowned 
men in strange, outlandish garb arriving in the 
gloaming at the Elms, and of Isabel, after a moment’s 
mistrust, rushing to greet and embrace them. The 
delectable imagination inspired me with such heart 
and energy that I must have expanded inches on the 
strength of it. 

The dawn broke sweetly over the waste with a rosy 
flush and a sapphire radiance, and a balm that was 
as a precious cordial to mind and body. The sand 
sparkled and gleamed like the sea, and the distant 
mountains stood out a definite blue-black line against 
the pellucid western horizon. 

Revived to fresh interest in life, I began to consider 


DESPAIR AND HOPE. 


265 


the means of escape from this wilderness, and so, 
having dressed my wound with wet rags, I climbed, 
not without difficulty, into the saddle. The question 
was which way to turn. Eastward, northward, 
southward, the unbroken expanse of sand stretched 
till it melted into liquid blue spaces, on the rim of 
the desert. To the west alone did there appear to be 
any prospect of succour, so, turning my horse’s head 
to the mountains, we started on our trackless path. 

For hours we plodded on among billowy ridges, 
my horse sometimes sinking over the fetlocks, some- 
times treading firmly on the crust, and always going 
just as he pleased, for he had done well enough to 
deserve a little license. It soon got very hot again, so 
hot that my steaming clothes suggested a portable va- 
pour bath aimlessly adrift in a dreary region of sand. 
The steam kept me moist, though it failed to keep 
me cool ; what was more, it did much to soothe the 
throbbing pulses of my wound, which, in spite of the 
night’s soaking and bathing, had still a sharp shoot- 
ing pain if I chanced to move unwarily. But the 
excruciating stiffness that had made my leg useless 
on dismounting after the hunt was nearly gone. 

There was no sign of life about, save here and there 
a fugitive jackal or hyena, running with its head 
down and its tail clapped tight between its legs; or 
overhead a hawk or vulture sharply outlined against 
the sky. I judged these gentry must have had a 
royal feast ; indeed, that it would be many days ere 
their gorging would be ended, and I sickened at the 
thought of the ravening that went on among the 
slain on. the field of battle. 

It must have been near noon, when I was again 
broiling in the glow of the vertical sun, that I gave a 
start on descrying the tiniest black dot on the ashy 
expanse far to the south-west. It was impossible to 
say whether it was dead or alive, a rock, a man, or 
a beast, but any diversion was welcome, and I made 
in its direction, quickening my pace. I had not gone 
far when I guessed it to be a horseman crawling to- 


266 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


wards the mountains. Putting my horse to a canter 
I drew rapidly near the stranger ; but for a while he 
held on his way, either as if he did not see me, or were 
too far spent, and too indifferent to deviate in his 
course. But at length he halted abruptly, then, after 
gazing for a moment, came galloping to meet me. 
My heart beat quick with both fear and gladness. If 
this were a Bedouin, our meeting would be a tilt for 
life, and I was but ill prepared for an encounter ; but 
if he should prove a friend — oh, joy of joys, it made 
me giddy to think of the bare possibility. 

On I galloped, and on he galloped. I saw him 
whirling his lance, and almost unconscious^ I waved 
my sword in return. Then, shouting at the pitch of 
his voice, he put his horse to the charge. That 
rather startled me, and I was in two minds about 
turning and making off; but in the critical moment 
when my courage had all but ebbed, I recognized a 
familiar face. Then I, too, shouted wildly, and my 
horse bounded as the spurs went into his sides. The 
next minute Tabal and I were hugging and embrac- 
ing like long separated brothers, both of us having 
leaped to the ground in order to get the closer grip. 

You.may be sure we had each a multitude of ques- 
tions to ask and answer; but before I would hear any- 
thing of Tabal’s adventures since our parting, I in- 
sisted upon looking to his injury. It was bad, he 
said, but not deadly. Baring his left shoulder very 
carefully, I found a shattered gunshot wound that 
gave the flesh a torn and broken appearance, different 
altogether from the clean lance-cut I had got. I 
dressed it as gentl} 7 and as well as was possible with 
the means at my 'disposal, a service for which poor 
Tabal was infinitely grateful. 

“We are of different nations and religions; yet 
surely we are not strangers, but friends,” he said, em- 
bracing me again. “ Had I seen thee now for the first 
time I would have driven this lance through thee. 
But henceforth it will be turned against him who 
seeks thy hurt. Tabal, the son of Achmet, swears 


DESPAIR AND HOPE. 267 

it.” And he took the oath in the most solemn man- 
ner known to his race. 

That done, he played the surgeon to me. 

“ Thou art lucky !” he exclaimed with professional 
pride when I was stripped. “ By my faith, the man 
who gave thee this hurt knew not his business, or 
thou mightest cast away thy leg for ever. Methinks, 
if I had my weapon upon him, as he had his upon 
thee, he would now be food for the kites and hyenas.” 

“He was clumsy, Tabal,” I said. 

“Clumsy!” repeated Tabal, scornfully. “Nay, it 
does not half express his want of skill. Having got 
his lance upon thee, he should have killed thee as dead 
as a roasted kid. I hold the fellow in contempt.” 

“Because, my good friend, he did not make an end 
of one whom thou hast sworn to cherish and pro- 
tect?” 

“Nay, nay,” answered Tabal, quickly, seeing 
whither his soldierly zeal had led him. “I meant 
not that. Praise be to Heaven thou art alive. I meant 
that he knew not how to drive his spear. See,” and 
he made a thrust with his own, to show how the thing 
ought to be done. “ Methinks that is the way to put 
an enemy into the dust. But thou art protected of 
God,” he added reverently, “and it maketh me glad 
to be with thee. Verily, I am thy servant to do as it 
pleaseth thee to bid me. And praise be to God and 
the holy Prophet that we are not now having our bones 
gnawed by wild beasts. Saw you ever such a slaugh- 
ter as that was? Truly I think the man on the black 
horse is none other than Satan himself !” 

For a moment I wavered whether or not I should 
enlighten him. Then I said very quietly, “ The man 
on the black horse is as much Satan as thou art, my 
good Tabal. Listen, and I will tell thee a tale,” and 
I told him of my search for Donald Gordon, and the 
meeting in the battle. He listened with wide eyes and 
gaping mouth, thinking, I suspect, that heat and 
trouble had turned my brain. 

“ Thou art telling me one of the tales of the magi- 


268 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


cians,” he said, with something of awe in his voice 
and manner. “ This passeth all belief.” 

“ ’Tis as true as the Koran, Tabal,” I answered. 
“ Hearken to my words : before thou art many weeks 
older thou shalt be as a brother to this dread warrior 
on the black horse.” 

“Nay. Heaven forbid!” exclaimed Tabal, fer- 
vently. “ I would not forego my chances of Paradise 
for all the favours Satan can bestow.” 

His horror was so comical that I burst out laugh- 
ing. Ordinarily I might have answered with my life 
for such an insult, such an outrage on his most sacred 
feelings. But happily Tabal was in a mood to forgive 
much because he loved much. 

“ I will put cool water on thy hurt,” he said as ten- 
derly as if he were treating an ailing and fractious 
child, “ and on thy head, too, for the sun hath made 
it hot. Then, when thou art refreshed, we will talk 
of our adventures since the flight and the simoon 
parted us.” 

He had his way, and indeed it was exceedingly re- 
freshing to be bathed ; for I was still more than a tri- 
fle feverish. But more soothing and invigorating 
than the water were the brotherly gentleness and com- 
passion of Tabal, who seemed to make himself re- 
sponsible for my safety and comfort. 

When we came to recount our experiences since 
parting, I learnt that he had passed the night like my- 
self, alone. Like me he had thought himself doomed, 
had been saved by the rain, and was looking for hu- 
man succour when I spied him. We went through 
our perils again, as old soldiers refight their battles, 
and embraced at the conclusion in pure exuberance of 
joy at being together once more. 

Not the least happy circumstance of our meeting 
was that I got back my little Fatema, and the pre- 
cious green bag with Duncan’s pipes. To Tabal the 
bag was an object of such intense curiosity that I had 
to produce the pipes and give him a lift. It scarcely 
ravished him, and it frightened the horses, so the 


DESPAIR AND HOPE. 


2G9 


pipes were put away that I might take formal posses- 
sion of my mare. Before parting with her, however, 
Tabal must needs make as fine a speech to her as ever 
a gallant of the old school made to his mistress, dwell- 
ing with rapturous phrase on her beauty, her fleet- 
ness, her docility, her intelligence, and her dauntless 
spirit in time of trouble, to all of which I heartily said 
Amen. 

Fortunately Tabal had some dates — they were really 
what were left of my own — -and when the ceremoni- 
ous address to Fatema was over we squatted on the 
sand and ate a few. We dared not venture to eat 
many, for the store was small, and it was extremely 
doubtful when it could be replenished. To make up 
for the shortness of rations we had a double pull at 
the water-skins, and the cooling draught was sweeter 
than the choicest vintage of France. 

It was again meltingly hot; indeed after the rain 
the heat seemed intenser than ever. Pungent streams 
were trickling into our eyes and mouths, and coursing 
down our backs and arms and legs, as if we were 
patent self-moisteners that worked the better the 
greater the drought. Self-moisteners we were with 
a vengeance ; but the moisture could not possibly last 
long. I looked at the thin brown visage of Tabal, 
thinking he must soon be converted to pemmican, 
and I, too, was swiftly undergoing the same process 
of desiccation. A little while and there would not 
be a drop of liquid in our bodies. 

The rate at which we were changing to hard fibre 
made it desirable to get out of the glare of the sand 
as quickly as might be. Tabal agreed with me that 
our best hope lay in the hills to the west, and we ac- 
cordingly made in their direction. If nothing better, 
their rocks and chasms would at least afford us shelter 
from the pitiless sun. 


270 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

BEDOUINS. 

All day we laboured through the loose, glowing, 
unshadowed sands, our water bottles constantly at 
our mouths, our garments like unwrung dishcloths, 
our drooping horses in a lather. Nightfall found us 
still crawling on, silent, weary, and in much pain. 
Tabal was the worse of the two. Yet the stoical 
fellow never complained, nor ever forgot to comfort 
me when my torments wrung from me a cry or a 
groan. 

With darkness it became cooler, and, to our further 
relief, there sprang up a delicious breeze. We were 
still wading in sandy seas, but we were now able to 
mend our pace a little ; and indeed there was urgent 
need of speed, for, in our condition, another day 
like the last would clean finish us. By-and-by our 
horses began to tread more lightly and firmly ; a lit- 
tle later they were stumbling over stones and nibbling 
at scrubby bushes, and we knew the water-courses 
were not far off. It was midnight, however, ere we 
had climbed far enough to feel safe for the night ; or 
perhaps the better way to put it is that at midnight 
I swore I would go no farther, if the halt cost me my 
life. Tabal said he thought we might rest. So, un- 
saddling, and tying the horse’s forefeet to prevent 
them from wandering, we had another drink and 
threw ourselves on the ground to sleep. 

We woke with the level sun beating in our faces, 
greatly refreshed though stiff and sore in the regions 
of our wounds. Our first act was to scramble to the 
top of an adjacent crag and reconnoitre the situation. 
We looked cautiously round among the rocks, then 
out on the plain as far as eye could see, but nothing 
living was visible save flocks of ravenous birds going 
to and fro between the mountains and the scene of 


BEDOUINS. 


271 


the late battle. Fancying ourselves secure, we de- 
scended, watered ourselves and our horses at a bub- 
bling spring, and breakfasted on half a dozen dates 
apiece. Then we saw to our wounds, and the sur- 
gical operation done, we lay in the shade of a rock to 
think, and, for the hundredth time, discuss our ad- 
ventures and prospects. 

I asked Tabal what he thought would be the result 
of the battle we had fought and lost. 

“The ravaging of the whole country by Yumen 
Yusel and the man on the black horse,” he answered 
promptly. “ Amood Sinn hath fattened and grown 
large on his neighbours, and Abou Kuram hath had 
immense tribute for rendering aid. Three times they 
have levelled the palace of Yumen Yusel and enriched 
themselves with great plunder. Now, methinks, it 
is Yumen Yusel’s time to win.” 

“ That means that the enemy will converge on 
Amood Sinn’s capital,” I said. 

“Yes,” said Tabal; “wouldst thou have them vic- 
torious without reaping the fruits of victory?” 

A brilliant idea flashed upon me. 

“Let us go to Amood ’s capital also,” I said. “I 
would fain meet the man on the black horse again.” 

“And be cloven in two for thy pains,” returned 
Tabal, quickly. 

“ Thou shouldst see us embrace like brothers,” I re- 
joined confidently. 

Tabal glanced at me with the old expression of in- 
credulity, and jumped to his feet saying we must sad- 
dle up and get to the green valleys and rushing streams 
that were ahead. I was in his hands and could not 
dissent. 

We had travelled slowly for perhaps two hours, 
round the shoulders of bluffs and about crags and 
rocks, and on the brink of dizzy precipices and over 
rubbly hills, when all at once we came upon a spot of 
such verdurous beauty it might have been the veri- 
table garden of Eden. It lay in a deep depression, 
walled about by cliffs, except at one corner where 


272 IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 

there was a narrow gate-like opening. As soon as we 
sighted it, Tabal, who suspected it might be inhab- 
ited, whispered me to remain quiet, and, slipping from 
his horse, went stealthily forward and peered over the 
breastwork of rock in front of us. Returning with 
gestures of silence he took charge of the horses, and 
I went softly to spy. Climbing the parapet I looked 
cautiously down the other side, and there, to my 
amazement, was Ahmed, the son of Koor Ali, alone 
and sleeping like a cherub. 

Motioning to Tabal to remain still, I ran quickly to 
the entrance, went in, and then crept along the base 
of the rock, intending to give Ahmed a fine surpise. 
Reaching him on tip-toe, I tickled him under the chin 
with my finger. He sprang up as if I had pierced him 
with a spear, a moving spectacle of ferocity and ter- 
ror, and drew his dagger, which was his sole weapon. 

“Put up thy dagger, Ahmed,” I said. “I am 
surely thy friend.” 

“Thou art no friend,” he returned savagely. “A 
man does not spit on his friend. Thou hast cast the 
rinsings of thy foul mouth into my face, a disgrace 
for which thy blood will atone. I will fight thee 
where thou standest, dagger to dagger, but I will not 
let thee call thj^self my friend. ” 

With that he wrapped his torn mantle about his 
left arm as a sort of shield, and put himself in a pos- 
ture of defence. 

“ Let it be quick,” he hissed. “ Stand not dallying 
as if thou wert afraid of thy fair skin.” 

“What thou sayest is impossible,” I answered, 
drawing myself up just enough to show I was not held 
back by fear. “ It would be a sin in me to fight thee. 
I have thee at an advantage ; besides, thou art in the 
midst of grievous misfortune.” 

“Thou art right,” he said. “But I will bear my 
grief as becometh a man, and desire not any compas- 
sion at thy hand. As for thy advantage, profit by it. 
I was eager to meet thee alone, and lo ! here thou art, 
and we will fight.” 


BEDOUINS. 


273 


“We will not fight,” I returned. “Thou art fam- 
ished with hunger, and weak from fatigue; why 
should I kill thee in thy feebleness? I will give thee 
share of my food, it is not much, but it will strengthen 
thee; and when thou hast eaten, thou shalt rest un- 
disturbed. If, after that, thou be of a mind to fight, 
I may gratify thee. Meantime, put up thy dagger.” 

He kept his blazing eyes on me for the space of per- 
haps half a minute, then, sullenly thrusting the dag- 
ger into his girdle, he threw himself on the ground 
without a word. 

Tabal came down with the horses and the dates, 
and Ahmed was invited to eat. He accepted the in- 
vitation with an ill grace and a lowering glance at 
me. But he was in my power, and I would not let 
his petulance or ingratitude irritate me. 

“If thou wilt sleep now,” I said, when he had fin- 
ished our dates, “ I promise thee no harm shall come 
to thee.” 

“ I am in need of no more rest,” he answered gruffly. 

“Concerning this quarrel, then,” I said, “that thou 
choosest to make between us ” 

“ It was thou put disgrace on me,” he growled. 

“It was not intended as such, Ahmed,” I said. “I 
did but jest in putting water on thee.” 

“Hay! by my faith, it was no jest!” he returned 
sharply. 

“ It was done in ignorance of the customs of thy 
country,” I explained humbly. 

He appeared to sway for a moment between two 
opinions. 

“Whatsayest thou?” he asked, turning suddenly 
to Tabal. “ Thou art of my own nation, and not ig- 
norant like this infidel. Thinkest thou the Christian 
meant dishonour in casting water in my face?” 

“Hadst thou cast water in his face,” said Tabal, 
with the grave impartiality of a judge, “ I would say 
thou hadst meant him dishonour. But he acted not in 
malice, but, as he sayeth, in ignorance. Think what 
that meaneth. Peradventure, if thou wert to visit the 


274 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


Christian’s country, thy ignorance should betray thee 
into error.” 

This lucid reasoning seemed to weigh with Ahmed. 
“ It may be thou speakest the truth,” he said, turning 
to me ; “I will so take it. Only remember that if 
thou put disgrace on me wittingly or unwittingly 
again, I will kill thee where thou standest.” 

“ I am warned, and agree,” I replied; “and now, 
what news hast thou of the defeat?” 

“The worst that tongue can tell. The troops of 
Abou Kuram are scattered as chaff in the wind ; and 
my father is dead, as thou knowest. But his death 
shall not be unavenged. A son liveth after him. 
Look you here, the man on the black horse is a 
mighty warrior ; but I will slay him if he were the 
very devil himself, and I had to hunt him to the depths 
of hell. I have sworn it, and that which I swear I 
will do.” 

It was useless to argue, so I held my peace. For a 
while he sat in silent anger, his hand clutching the 
hilt of his dagger, his flaming eyes on the ground. 
But looking up and finding Tabal and me watching, 
he rose, shook himself, tossed his head proudly, and 
began to talk as if he had never known a grief. 

All this time our horses were feeding on the rich 
grass with such relish as only Arabs escaped from the 
desert can know. I saw Tabal looking thoughtfully 
at their swelling sides as if he were concerned about 
the matter. 

“ Are thy sins troubling thee that thou art so sol- 
emn, good Tabal?” I asked. 

“ By the holy Prophet, sins enough have I to trou- 
ble me,” he answered. “Yet it was not of them I 
was thinking. Look you how these horses swell. If 
we were to be pursued, where would be their wind? 
Let us take them where the grass is less sweet.” 

“ Thou speakest wisely,” I replied. “ Let us go.” 

I put Ahmed on my mare by way of cementing our 
friendship, and then Tabal insisted I should ride his 
horse. 


BEDOUINS. 


275 


“I have the goat’s pleasure in climbing,” he re- 
marked. “ ’Twill be a pastime to me.” 

“Nay, nay, Tabal,” I said, “I will not consent to 
anything of the sort. I am more of a mountain child 
than thou art. I could scramble with delight over 
rocks, the mere look of which would make thee giddy. 
Besides, thy wound is worse than mine. Mount, my 
friend, and let us be off. ” 

“ Nay, not while I have two feet to walk, and thou 
but one whole leg,” he answered. 

“ Tabal, do not put me to the trouble of hoisting 
thee by the back of thy neck and the wide part of thy 
breeches. Up with thee. Not a word more. Am I 
not leader, and shall I not be obeyed?” 

Tabal laughed loudly, and, declaring I was making 
him as the grandmother of a hundred children, leaped 
into the saddle. 

At first our path was no more than a fox’s trail run- 
ning a devious and dizzy course round the base of 
great rocks and along the brow of beetling crags, and, 
at times, so steep that the riders had to dismount and 
almost hoist their horses by the bridle-reins. Then 
suddenly the aspect of the place changed, and we 
found ourselves in a sort of level dip several miles in 
extent, and giving one the impression of having been 
hollowed out by the hand of man. 

“We must go warily,” said Tabal. “ Perchance we 
are not alone.” 

When he spoke we were winding among a confused 
mass of boulders, momentarily expecting to debouch 
upon the open space or plateau. I was stumbling on 
behind, my eyes on the ground for the greater safety 
of my neck, when, all at once, I heard strange voices, 
and looking up, saw a dozen men about Tabal and 
Ahmed, some pulling at the bridles, and others danc- 
ing round in a disquieting manner with spears and 
matchlocks. It required no wizard to explain the sit- 
uation. They were Bedouins, and we were prison- 
ers. 

“ Whence come ye, and whither go ye?” demanded 


276 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


a man who appeared from his air of authority to be 
the chief. 

“We are fugitives from the battle of which my lord 
hath doubtless heard,” answered Tabal, who was cool- 
est of us three. “We have lost all.” 

“Nay, by my father’s honour, that is a lie,” said 
the Bedouin. “ Ye have here two as good horses as ever 
blessed a man’s sight. Yet there is truth in what thou 
hast said, for presently ye shall be without them. 
Take these horses, Saba, and get ye down, my 
friends,” addressing Tabal and Ahmed. “And thou 
step beside them,” turning to me, “so that we may 
see if ye be worth stripping. Torn and ragged,” he 
remarked, examining us like a Jewish pawnbroker’s 
assistant. “Yet methinks these garments may be 
worth having. Mohamed,” he called out with his 
hand on my shoulder, “ take this fellow and leave him 
naught but the skin God gave him. By my sword, 
? tis more than he deserveth.” 

“He may strip my dead body,” I said, stepping 
quickly back and pulling my pistol, “ but not a stitch 
shall he have while I breathe.” 

“ Sayest thou so?” asked the chief, with a rough 
laugh. 

“ I have spoken,” I answered. 

“ And by that baby face of thine thou hast spoken 
bravely,” returned the Bedouin. “ If thy deeds equal 
thy words, thou art a comrade worth having. Mo- 
hamed, thou mayest leave him his clothes as well as 
his skin. Heaven hath been gracious of late, and 
each man may in the mean time carry his own ap- 
parel. It will be a convenience. And now, my men, 
’tis time to eat and drink. Let us join our compan- 
ions ; for by this time the feast will be ready. ” 

They took the horses and marched on, we three 
walking carefully guarded in the midst. At their 
rendezvous in a smaller opening higher up the moun- 
tain, we found preparations in progress for the feast 
of which the chief had spoken. Fires were blazing, 
meat was roasting, and cakes were burning among 


BEDOUINS. 


277 


the ashes ; and while the cooks were busy, others were 
laying out supplies of sherbet, coffee, and tobacco, 
things you would not see in a Bedouin encampment 
oftener than once in a lifetime. There were also many 
horses and a drove of camels, besides bundles of 
dresses and various other articles of merchandise — all 
testifying to the exceptional luck of the band in its 
recent enterprises. When we arrived, the cooking 
was held to be done, and the company, numbering at 
•least two hundred, squatted to eat, Tabal, Ahmed, 
and myself being ordered to join. In appreciation, 
as he said, of my brave words, the chief did me the 
honour of keeping me close to himself, and we sat 
down beside the carcass of a gazelle, which had been 
roasted whole. As usual at such merry-makings, de- 
cency was thrown to the winds. Every man seized 
and devoured what lay readiest to his hand, without 
thought of ceremony. The chief opened the proceed- 
ings by thrusting his hand down the gazelle’s throat 
and tearing out its half raw tongue. Taking a huge 
bite himself, he requested^me to follow his example. 

“Bite,” he said, holding the still bleeding piece of 
flesh to my mouth. “ Bite ! By the Prophet’s mule, 
never hast thou had such a sweet morsel under thy 
tongue. Thou wilt not!” he exclaimed, as I drew 
back in disgust. “Then is thy belly likely to cry 
out, ere thou hast more to offer it. Come ye hither,” 
he called to Tabal and Ahmed, who were a little dis- 
tance off, “ come ye hither and bite. Ha ! ye know 
how to drive the fangs,” as they complied. “What 
aileth the other dog?” 

“Defeat lieth heavy on his stomach, Suleiman,” 
put in one of. his comrades with a laugh. 

“Perchance, Abd-el-Mahsin,” returned Suleiman. 
“ Nevertheless the rogue shall eat. It is my humour. 
Perdition to him, what is he that he should cross my 
purpose? Come near, thou dog, and bite,” he added, 
addressing me. “ Bite, or by our holy religion I will 
crush it down thy throat with the shaft of my spear, 
nay, I may even widen the passage with the point.” 


278 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


“My lord,” I replied in my humblest and most 
respectful manner, “ I have already eaten, and have 
no appetite.” 

“No appetite for such as that, thou mongrel cur! 
Thy vile stomach knoweth not what is good. Had 
I eaten a two-year-old camel, yet would I find appe- 
tite for such sweet bread as that. I say to thee, stick 
thy teeth in it.” 

I might have persisted in my refusal, for the look 
of the thing sickened me; but just then my eye 
caught Tabal’s, which gave me a hasty but earnest 
admonition. So I bit at the outer edge, where the 
meat was best done. 

“A dainty bite, by my sabre hilt,” cried Suleiman. 

“ ’Twas but a pretence. Open thy jaws and try 
again, my beautiful. That is better — so, so,” he 
laughed. “Now thou shalt drink, my merry one. , 
To-morrow morning I may find it in my heart to 
give thee to the sun to roast and the vultures to eat ; 
but to-day thou shalt fare as if thou wert a brother. 
Take that,” and he held up a goblet of coffee. “ If 
thou say not it is the rarest that ever put joy in the 
soul of a child of the desert, I will tell thee to thy 
face thou art a scandalous liar.” 

I drank, and the coffee was good, so good that my 
lips smacked of their own accord. 

“ Ha, ha ! my gazelle hath the right taste in his 
mouth yet,” cried Suleiman; “that is from the store 
of our beloved friend and brother, Amood Sinn. Thou 
mayest have heard of him. He hath forgotten the 
way of victory ; but he remaineth a right good judge 
of coffee. Yet is it not better than his sherbet, which 
delighteth the soul as the smile of the houris. Amood 
Sinn is a man of understanding. He goeth forth to 
battle, and leaveth his good things to the needy. My 
blessings on him. May the holy Prophet give him 
the bliss of Paradise” — taking a draught of sherbet. 
“It grieveth my heart to think that Yu men Yusel and 
that devil on the black horse will be drinking his 
wine and dividing his wives so soon. Take a cup of 


BEDOUINS. 


279 


his sherbet, my gazelle. Ha! that is good. Thou 
smackest thy lips again. Now thou shalt have an- 
other bite,” and the tongue having by this time disap- 
peared, he seized the carcass and tore a hind leg off. 
He held it towards me and I, remembering Tabal’s 
admonishing look, made a feint of biting greedily. 

“Nay, not all! By my faith, not all!” cried Sulei- 
man. “ Abd-el-Mahsin, seest thou this? He who a 
moment ago would not put tooth on a tongue, is now 
ready to devour an entire limb. He will be asking 
for a whole carcass next. Yet he shall eat; yea, 
eat and drink,” turning to me again. “Yonder is 
the desert, that will bring my gay one’s sides together 
in emptiness.” 

So saying, he pushed the mass of meat against my 
mouth, and laughed uproariously because I showed 
symptoms of choking. But now that I was docile, 
the diversion of coercing me was at an end, and so, 
letting me eat as I pleased, he centred his atten- 
tions on himself. Never surely did man regale 
himself with such desperate energy. Nor was he 
alone in his voracity ; for the entire band laid to in 
such an exhibition'of ravening, as the civilized cannot 
imagine. Whole carcasses disappeared as mouthfuls, 
and where one minute there was meat enough to 
furnish a score of butchers’ shops, the next there was 
only a heap of bones, piled for the wolf and the 
hyena. Tobacco and huge draughts of coffee and 
sherbet followed; then the gormandized camp lay 
down to sleep off its surfeit, the sentries alone re- 
maining alert and undebauched. They would get 
their share later. 

When we rose again, there was no longer any 
hilarity. The festivities were over, and the festive 
spirit gave place to one strictly devoted to business. 
Men who had laughed riotously at the feast, were 
grim and hardfaced ; and amongst the grimmest of 
the lot was the erstwhile jocular Suleiman. He 
looked, indeed, as if he had never learned how to 
smile; and I noticed his curt orders were obeyed with 


280 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


a silent alacrity that told of an authority which would 
brook neither questioning nor insubordination. The 
saddling up was done so quietly, you would not have 
heard us a hundred yards off, and so quickly, that in 
half an hour after the first order was given we were 
in a break-neck gorge a mile from the resting-place. 
By express injunction Tabal and I rode our own 
horses by the bridle of Suleiman, while Ahmed was 
accommodated by the rein of Abd-el-Mahsin. Though 
there was no path save such as could be picked 
among broken ravines, and craggy watercourses, and 
up and down breathless steeps, the progress was swift ; 
for Bedouin horses leap and dodge, and climb with 
the agility of goats. In trying moments, when we 
three strangers were demonstrative from fear of our 
necks, we were admonished to silence with the butt 
end of a spear, and so learned to look death in the 
face and hold our peace. 

By nightfall, after a ride that wrenched, tore, and 
jolted the soundest joints and bones, we emerged 
from the range on a level dip on one of the spurs 
overlooking the plain to the west. Here we halted 
for supper, which was stealthily prepared, and silently 
eaten; for the need of concealment had come. As 
soon as the meal was over, Suleiman and Abd-el- 
Mahsin held a brief but animate consultation, the 
result of which was an immediate order to mount and 
march. By daybreak we were at the mouth of a 
steep and narrow defile that issued on a piece of green 
sloping down to the plain ; and here we rested in the 
shadow of some tall precipices, I managing to snatch 
perhaps an hour of sleep. 

The east was blazing in all the glory of crimson and 
gold, when some one prodded me vigourously in the 
ribs, and I started to my feet to find the company 
tightening girths for the road. Tabal, who insisted 
on being at once brother and servant to me, had my 
mare ready by my side. I had just time to take the 
rein w’hen Suleiman gave the order to mount, and 
like one man the band sprang into the saddle, 


BEDOUINS. 


281 


At starting w© divided, Abd-el-Mahsin with 
Ahmed and the necessary guard going southward 
with the captured horses and camels, and other booty, 
and Suleiman and the rest of us striking out to the 
north-west. 

Before parting I managed to get a word with 
Ahmed. 

“We may never meet again, Ahmed,” I said, “and 
I wish to assure thee I am thy friend. Shouldst thou 
make thy way back to Abou Kuram, as I trust thou 
wilt, tell him I shall not forget his kindness, and that 
I commend to him the son of the valiant Koor Ali.” 

“It shall be done as thou desirest,” he answered. 

“ One thing more I would beseech of thee,” I added, 
“ and that it is this, if thou shouldst chance to meet 
the man on the black horse, thou wilt not fight with 
him, nor provoke him.” 

“ I will slay him !” returned Ahmed, fiercely. 

“Nay, Ahmed, tempt him not, lest he slay thee,” 
I said. “ As for avenging the death of thy father, 
thou canst not right the wrongs of battle. Koor Ali 
fell like a gallant soldier. Lay that to thy heart. 
Farewell.” 

“Farewell,” answered Ahmed. “I will think of 
what thou hast said.” 

And we parted. 

It was easy to see from the demeanour of Suleiman 
and his men, that something big was in the wind ; 
and, presently, an inkling of its character was con- 
veyed in a whisper that we were bound for Amood 
Sinn’s palace. The band swelled with elation, for 
the prospect was glorious ; but they held their peace, 
and our march was as the march of the army of the 
dead. 


282 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


5 CHAPTER XXIV. 

IN AMOOD SINN’S PALACE. 

We pushed on with the speechless haste of men 
who cannot afford to waste energy on words, neither 
heat of sun nor lack of water being allowed to detain 
us. In and out among drifting dunes, across shifting 
ridges, over fissures that might have swallowed us 
all without being aware of it, through black rocks 
and scraggy shrubbery, dipping into valleys, climb- 
ing hillocks, skirting villages — on, on we went with 
never an abatement of the pace and no hint of our 
burning impatience, save what might be gathered 
from flashing eyes and keen set faces. 

To me it was the old agony over again. The pangs 
of thirst were upon me, and my hurt was paining 
me dreadfully. From his uneasy wriggling and his 
peculiar stoop I understood that Tabal, too, was 
suffering. But as we had no desire to be stripped and 
left in the desert to console each other in native naked- 
ness, no murmur of complaint escaped our lips. 

Two days and nights this continued, with scarce a 
pause or remission. Our food was eaten in the saddle, 
and as for prayers, Heaven and the Prophet would 
forgive a little present neglect in view of the urgency 
of our business and the amplitude of the after atone- 
ment. We did not , think of eating, we had no time 
for devotions, and such momentary halts as were per- 
mitted were wholly out of consideration for the la- 
bouring horses. 

By noon on the third day we entered upon a high 
plateau or table-land, clothed with succulent grass 
and giving promise of some sort of civilization. The 
eagerness of the men increased. They began to strain 
their eyes, and whispers were passed that now we 
must be near the place of spoil. 

We came upon many herds of goats and cattle, with 


IN AMOOD SINN’S PALACE. 


283 


some camels, and the herdsmen, when questioned, 
told of the panic and revolution of war. Towards 
evening one of them reported having seen several 
bands of our own order, as well as parties of troops, 
that he took to be portions of the victorious army of 
Yumen Yusel. Suleiman listened with interest, and 
invited the man to become our guide. 

“ How shall I answer my master for forsaking the 
flocks entrusted to me?” he asked tremulously. 
“Truly he will beat me, and, it may be, have me 
put to death.” 

“ We will ourselves take the blame of thy faithless- 
ness,” said Suleiman. “We have a notion of taking 
possession of these flocks, and thou shalt be our chief 
herdsman, and shalt have two slaves for thy friend- 
liness — the sleekest that can be found, besides much 
rich apparel and dainty food. We are in haste and 
cannot tarry. Get thee hold of my stirrup strap, 
my gazelle — so. I know by thy looks thou canst use 
the feet God gave thee, and canst easily outrun a 
spent horse. Thou shalt feast in Amood Sinn’s ban- 
queting hall; yea, thou shalt be in Paradise ere thou 
knowest it. Be not afraid to grip, my brave one. 
And thou wilt take us by the shortest way; it will be 
best for thyself.” 

We resumed the march at a good round trot, the 
guide running as he was directed, and not daring to 
: complain. 

“Thou wilt do,” remarked Suleiman, encourag- 
! ingly. “ Thou skippest like a roe on the mountains. 

Yea, thou art fleeter of foot than the leopard. I said 
| two slaves; by my sword hilt, thou shalt have three.” 

Presently we began to fall in with rival bands of 
i marauders, hard, fleshless, fierce-eyed rogues, who 
scowled and snarled at each other and at us, and rode 
: faster and ever faster as they found more and more 
competitors for Amood ’s spoil. As they fouled and 
jostled in their haste there were high words and 
sudden gleams of steel; indeed they often behaved as 
if a fray were inevitable ; but the Bedouin, with booty 


284 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


in his eye, will use much unchristian language and 
many savage gestures, before staying to shed blood. 
So they pressed together, imprecating ferociously, 
but nursing their private quarrels against a more 
convenient time of settlement. 

The vulture has not a surer, quicker scent for 
carrion than the Bedouin for the property of the fallen 
or the unfortunate. From all points the children of 
the desert — the dirty, tawny, picturesque, warlike, 
cruel, generous, abominable progeny of Ishmael — 
were converging upon the capital of the luckless 
Amood Sinn, and making eager haste to divide his 
possessions. As we drew near our common destina- 
tion the company was constantly swelling, and so 
was the tumult. Curses were bandied as thick as 
jests at a revel ; and it was not ornamental swearing; 
for the oaths were hissed from between clenched teeth, 
and carried with them the intention of swift death. 
In the whole tumultuous mob none spoke deadlier 
words than the band of Suleiman. 

We were in danger of forgetting our mission and 
breaking into gory hostilities, when, with the blood- 
red flush of the sunset upon them, we descried points 
of clustering minarets; a few minutes later the 
chimney-like turrets, at sight of which the famished 
traveller blesses himself, and the towers of a castle 
were drawn clear and firm against the dazzling splen- 
dours of the west. Then the children of the desert, 
with such whoops and howls as no throats on earth 
but their own can utter, clapped heel to flank, and 
the race became a mad scramble, with most of the 
features of a battle and a rout combined. It was as 
the descent of wolves upon an unprotected sheep- 
fold. 

Just before the final dash orders were issued by 
Suleiman that if either Tabal or myself showed the 
least sign of disloyalty we were to be speared without 
question or ceremony, the justice of the deed to be 
considered afterwards. With the knowledge of these 
heartening instructions safely lodged in our minds. 


IN AMOOD SINN’S PALACE. 


285 


Tabal and I exchanged smiles of intelligence, and rode 
gaily with the rest to the looting. 

In spite of its forced march, and greatly to Sulei- 
man’s chagrin, his band was belated. Already the 
town was in the panic of a sack, and the company 
plied their spurs growling viciously at the thought of 
finding the pillaging half done. The crooked chan- 
nels of streets overflowed with shrieking people who 
had been hunted out of their houses like rabbits out 
of burrows to be chased for sport and revenge in the 
open. Their cries on Heaven and the Prophet were 
pitiable, but did not detain us, for the call was ur- 
gent on every hand — 

“ To the castle ! to the castle ! In the castle is the 
big spoil.” 

Night had already dropped on us when, in the 
midst of a whirling and riotous press, we clattered 
under the frowning bastions of Amood’s citadel. 
There was difficulty in finding a gate, and when dis- 
covered it was only by using our spears, butt and 
point, as was handiest, that we managed to reach it. 
It was closed, but a hundred shoulders and musket 
ends burst it at a touch, and the surging mass poured 
in with hideous noises. I fancy it was not properly 
fastened. Before our arrival the guards had been 
killed or overcome, or, what is perhaps more likely, 
had joined the looters at the first chance, and were 
already busy with their master’s costliest treasures, 
animate and inanimate. 

The outer court was dark and full of maniacal peo- 
ple, who behaved like an enraged menagerie. Dis- 
mounting inside the walls, we gave the horses over 
to a strong party of the most stalwart of our band, 
who might be trusted not only to defend, but to re- 
frain from running off with them. Then the rest of 
us, following the lead of Suleiman, mowed an open- 
ing for ourselves into another court. 

An Arab stronghold, as the reader may by this time 
be aware, is a place of vexatious courts and passages 
specially designed to beguile and confound. Amood 


286 


IN THE HAY OF BATTLE. 


Sinn’s palace was unusually rich in deceptive retreats, 
and now every one of them was blocked by a mob that 
was self-destroying, because it could neither go on nor 
turn back, and was frantic for plunder. The living 
trampled furiously on the dead and dying, and the din 
was as the uproar of caged beasts rending each other 
in the night. 

In the brief lulls of the delirium, wild sounds 
swooped from above, and the tumbling bodies cast 
riven and bleeding out of windows told that work 
was vigourously proceeding where we particularly 
wished to be. Once the sharp scream of a woman 
rang out directly over our heads, like a shrill bugle 
note in the clamour of battle, telling that the pillag- 
ers were already in Amood’s holy of holies. Sulei- 
man made a remark about the harem being cleared 
before we could reach it, adding comments which it 
would be unwise to repeat. 

It got horribly dark with a thick stifling darkness 
that you tried to ward off with your hand because it 
was choking the breath out of you. No man knew 
how or where to get a light, so, jammed in a reeking 
pen, from which there appeared to be no escape, we 
slew each other in utter horror and confusion to no 
purpose whatever. If the abattoir were not burst 
somehow none would be left to enjoy the good things 
that had brought us together. 

At last some one got hold of a torch and kicking 
open a stove that smouldered in a corner, lighted it. 
Another and another followed suit, till twenty brands 
were shedding a red glare on the ghastly scenp. In 
a swift glance we reckoned the multitude of demons 
against us; then, clustering once more about Sulei- 
man, we reaped a path inward till we came to a bat- 
tered staircase. Somewhere at the top of it were the 
secret apartments in which Amood Sinn’s most pre- 
cious possessions were kept, and we made haste to as- 
cend, stabbing and tearing down all that blocked or 
barred the way. It would have saved much life and 
considerable trouble had the several bands agreed to 


IN AMOOD SINN’S PALACE. 


287 


combine and distribute the booty share and share 
alike. But no man thought of that, and probably 
would not have entertained the idea had it occurred 
to him. 

“For why? Because the good old rule 
Sufficeth them ; the simple plan, 

That they should take who have the power, 

And they should keep w T ho can. ” 

So every ruffian did that which promised the best 
and speediest return to himself. 

We gained the top with the loss of only one man, 
who went down clutching his slayer and bellowing 
frightfully. Remarking that, everything considered, 
we had done very well, Suleiman paused a moment 
trying to decide which way to turn. Labyrinths of 
passages ran like an intricate network in all direc- 
tions : any one of them might be right, but the prob- 
ability was that most of them were wrong, and it was 
important to make the proper choice. As we were de- 
bating in our minds which corridor to take, and with 
the aid of our weapons endeavouring to maintain our 
footing, Suleiman caught a man who seemed anxious 
to escape, and punched him under the fifth rib till he 
screamed. 

“Have a little forbearance, friend,” said Suleiman. 
“ What do they call thee?” 

“ Baruk,” answered the man, ready to fall in terror. 

“And thy office, gentle Baruk?” 

“ Chamberlain of the household. ” 

“By my faith, Heaven is gracious!” remarked Su- 
leiman, softly. “ Thou seest this dagger?” drawing 
a crimson blade slowly across the man’s eyes. “ Take 
note of its colour. It is sharp and cruel, and will be 
in thy heart if we are not in Amood’s most secret 
chamber within three minutes !” 

“How can it be?” asked Baruk, with a livid face. 

“That is for thee to devise,” answered Suleiman, 
quietly. “ Thou art at home, and shouldst know thy 
way about. And I pray thee make haste, lest I be 


288 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


tempted to take liberties with thee where thou stand- 
est.” 

“ My lord would go to the harem?” said Baruk. 

“ Thou art a magician,” returned Suleiman. “ The 
harem and the treasury.” 

The man turned, making an effort to get on, but 
could not force his way. 

“It is better to kill me,” he moaned. “My ribs 
crack in the crush as dry twigs under the hunter’s 
tread. Never have mine eyes looked on so woeful a 
spectacle as this.” 

He wrung his hands and would have wept, hut that 
the point of a dagger made him leap in the air. 

“ Thou hast forgotten that we are in a hurry,” said 
Suleiman. “ Hadst thou not better make haste?” 

He made another effort, and failed as before. 

“The thing cannot be done, my lord,” he gibbered 
in despair. 

“We will see,” replied Suleiman. 

The dagger pricked, and Baruk yelled. Like a 
plunging horse, he sprang at the solid mass in front, 
and came back like water from a rock. 

“ Thou art of no avail in thy own house,” said Su- 
leiman. “ Do thou guide, and I will make a way for 
thee.” 

Keeping his dagger on a level with the small of a 
man’s back, Suleiman drove ahead, the other cower- 
ing close behind him for protection, and we resolutely 
supporting. Progress, however, was slow, for the 
light was bad, the block exceedingly great, and the 
fallen were troublesome underfoot. But Suleiman’s 
dagger was very busy — quietly busy — dealing blows 
that were unfailingly effective, and we made steady 
way. Baruk wept hysterically at intervals, declaring 
his master would have him beheaded, and leaped like 
a roe at every prod from behind. 

Back, far back we went along such a course as I 
hope never to travel again. At last Baruk, writhing 
as if the death agony were upon him, touched with 
the tip of his finger what seemed to be a panel in the 


In amood Sinn’s palace. 289 

wall. The next instant there was a crash of splinter- 
ing wood and rending iron, and through the broken 
door came a gush of warm perfume. “ The houries, 
my dove !” said Suleiman. “ The houries !” The men 
at his back, shouting wildly, strained for Paradise, 
all except the guide, who groaned dismally as if he 
were on the brink of the pit. 

Surging forward, we entered a narrow passage 
heavy with incense, and darkened by massy curtains. 
Then, bursting another door we came to a tapestried 
chamber. Suleiman growled at finding it empty, and 
was turning to have satisfaction out of Baruk, when 
a chorus of screams came ringing out of the remote 
darkness beyond. Baruk was let alone ; there was fun 
ahead that prohibited dallying. 

“The inner chamber,” screeched the guide. “The 
inner chamber, my lord. May God and the holy 
Prophet protect me !” he added to himself, tragically. 
“ Surely I shall be burnt alive for this, and never taste 
the bliss of the faithful. Never were the sanctities of 
privacy and our holy religion so profaned before.” 

Suleiman, in another mood, was using unhallowed 
language in front, because we were again in a maze 
of deep darkness, from which there appeared to be no 
outlet. 

“Perdition seize thee, where art thou now, thou 
varlet of the bed chamber?” he called angrily to 
Baruk. “ By the Prophet’s sword, this dagger quiv- 
eretli for a fleshy sheath. Thou shalt never escape 
alive, if there is more trouble or delay.” 

“ Surely, my lord, I know these passages as a blind 
man knoweth the way to his mouth,” answered Baruk, 
promptly. “The press is lessened. I will lead.” 

“ Let me take hold of thy skirt then, for I have not 
the eyes of a cat,” said Suleiman. “Thou feelest 
that point? — yea, that shrinking answereth for thee. 
Now, my gazelle, get us on if thou wouldst not be in 
the hall of Eblis this night.” 

We passed on through suffocating waves of per- 
fume, by rustling curtains of inestimable value, over 


$90 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


Persian rugs that were like deep beds of moss under 
foot; upstairs and downstairs, and round more cor- 
ners than Christian architect ever dreamed of. 
Another door flew into splinters, and we found our- 
selves in a gorgeously decorated apartment, illumined 
by swinging lamps that emitted a delectable odour, 
and full of struggling men and women. Crumpled, 
dishevelled embroideries, torn fans, broken musical 
instruments, and various articles of toilet were strewn 
about the floor; for the ladies and their attendants, 
not suspecting the fate of their lord, had been taken 
by surprise in the midst of music, gossip, and needle- 
work. 

A few of the women were negro slaves, but the ma- 
jority were delicately nurtured beauties, whose mani- 
fold charms bore eloquent testimony to Amood’s ap- 
preciation of diverse kinds of feminine loveliness. 
Fair Circassians there were, and tawny Egyptians, 
and thick-lipped 'Ethiopians, and black-eyed Arabs, 
with other belles of varying hue and attraction. Most 
of them were young; some, indeed, were mere girls; 
and all were plump as pullets and fragrant as musk 
roses. 

They were in sad plight and disorder, poor things, • 
their veils being rudely torn from their faces, their 
gauzy robes made into ribbons by men who were too 
eager for plunder to respect the sacredness of Amood’s 
domestic circle. Occasionally the older ones fought 
with their captors, displaying no contemptible skill in 
the use of their claws ; but the younger ones, to whom 
the mere sight of graceless strangers was pollution, 
shrank into alcoves and corners, panting like captured 
does ; and were easier prizes. 

Suleiman cast a swift appraising glance about the 
room. 

“ The queen — which is the queen?” he demanded of 
Baruk. 

“She is not here, my lord,” answered the quaking 
chamberlain. 

“Not here, thou dog! and wherefore are we here? 


IN AMOOD SINN’S PALACE. 


201 


Wouldst tliou have thy blood spilled ere thou art a 
minute older? By this red blade, I will have none of 
thy tarrying and wavering.” 

Baruk took a step forward in quivering trepidation. 
Nor did he tremble without cause, for some of the 
women spying him were at him like tigresses, screech- 
ing that he had betrayed his trust. 

“This is unseemly,” said Suleiman, intervening. 
“Ye do your loveliness wrong.” 

“The wretch is a traitor,” they clamoured. “He 
hath betrayed us. We will have his eyes out for the 
dishonour.” 

“Nay, nay, my charming ones,” said Suleiman, 
with the most gallant air imaginable. “Ye do him 
injustice. Never was keeper of beauty so faithful to 
his trust. He hath conducted us hither, oh, lights 
of our souls, on the sharp compulsion of steel. We 
have ridden far, oh, unmatchable ones, for the joy of 
looking upon you, and now would ye deny us leave to 
prostrate ourselves at your feet which shine as the 
inner parts of shells on the seashore, and have the 
sweet odour of ambergris and sandalwood?” and he 
bowed profoundly. 

In spite of their anger the ladies could not help 
smiling in a mollified way at the insinuating sweet- 
ness of Suleiman. 

“ Be comforted, ye who are as the stars in glory and 
brightness,” he went on. “ This guardian of your an- 
gelic slumbers hath not been false. But the times are 
strange, oh peerless princesses. Men are not masters 
in their own houses. Even the mighty Amood Sinn 
hath tasted defeat and is no longer able to rule his 
palace.” 

Such of the ladies as were disengaged clasped their 
hands, turned their eyes to heaven, and, with one ac- 
cord, screamed. 

“ Slay me for causing you pain, ye adorable ones,” 
cried Suleiman. “ I vow we deserve death for thus 
disturbing your meditations. Yet must I ask one 
question. Is the beauteous flower, the queen, with- 


292 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


in? Business brooketh no delay, else would we tarry 
to sip honey off your lips, oh, ye enchantresses.” 

Jealousy is an ever active fire in Arab households. 
There was probably not one among them who would 
not have rejoiced in her heart to see the reigning 
beauty cast from the window ; but deceit knows how 
to be discreet. Never would they permit unhallowed 
strangers to approach their beautiful queen, not so 
long as they had breath and nails to defend her. In- 
timating this, as many as were free bolted through 
an inner door, slamming and fastening it behind them. 

“ Make haste,” said Suleiman. “ We must not lose 
them. They will guide us whither we wish to go.” 

Forcing the door as if it were pasteboard, we dashed 
in pursuit. Along the dark, tripping ways we flew, 
guided by cries and vanishing skirt-tails, round in- 
numerable angles, through countless doors, till we 
came upon a long straight passage. At the farther 
end, through a dim vista of muslin, we got a glimpse 
of two women whom we had not hitherto seen, disap- 
pearing at their utmost speed, with flying tresses that 
told of distress. 

“ ’Tis she ! ’tis she !” cried Baruk, excitedly. Then 
to himself, though loud enough to be audible to all, 
“ Glory be to Heaven, she will escape. She can hide.” 
But, suddenly remembering the position of affairs, he 
called again, “ My lord, make haste, she is thine, so 
also is her companion, the Indian princess, of fabulous 
wealth. That is a tale of wonder. I would tell it to 
my lord, but there is no time. The holy Prophet pre- 
serve me !” and he groaned as if taken with a sudden 
pain. 

Suleiman bounded past the shrieking bevy we had 
first encountered, the rest of us followiug as best we 
could. As we sped cries of terror rose in front and 
echoed shrilly in a hundred recesses. Suleiman 
bounded faster, calling on us to make a dash for the 
chief prize. The next instant we were round a cor- 
ner to find the queen and her companion struggling 
with three men who were already setting about bind- 


IN AMOOD SINN’S PALACE. 


293 


ing them. Suleiman rushed upon the group with 
drawn sword, and two of the men, turning quickly 
to meet him, drew their long daggers with oaths of 
defiance, while the third, catching the women by the 
wrists, dragged them screeching into an adjoining 
room. 

We crowded to Suleiman’s aid, and the business 
would have been over in a jiffey had not the women, 
who were behind, come up and flung themselves 
blindly among our weapons. In the confusion our 
adversaries took to their heels, as Suleiman remarked 
angrily, without so much as a scratch upon them ; 
the fellow who was engaged with the ladies, finding 
his attempt hopeless, dropped his hold and made after 
his comrades. 

Thus released, the two women flew on again, in a 
worse frenzy of fright than ever, and we, uncere- 
moniously disentangling ourselves, went in hot pur- 
suit. 

We gained on them, and they separated, leaping out 
of sight on either side of a passage as I have seen 
hunted rabbits disappear among whins and ferns. 
Suleiman, with half the company, darted after the 
one ; I, with the rest, going on the track of the other, 
who proved to be the Indian princess. 

We had almost overtaken her when, sudden as a 
tiger from her native jungles, a man sprang out of 
ambush, seized her, and before she could so much as 
cry, had her into a curtained recess. There two men 
made hasty arrangements to gag and bind her, but 
they never accomplished the operation. One went 
down wreaking his vengeance on the spear that 
pierced him, and the other shot out of sight leaving the 
rope twisted about his victim’s arms. Faint with 
fatigue and fear the lady gave a little peculiar cry, 
staggered, and fell back, as it happened, right into 
my arms. Cutting her fetters with my sword I led 
her quietly to a divan that chanced to be near, the 
Bedouins crowding close about but chivalrously keep- 
ing hands off her. 


1 


294 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


“ Be not afraid,” I said as gently as I could when 
she had recovered a little. “We will do thee no 
harm.” 

She answered something in broken Arabic which 
I did not understand, and presently, professing herself 
better, she was escorted back the way we had come. 
The Bedouins, whispering among themselves, ap- 
praised the value of her rich attire of silk and gold 
and jewels; but as for me, I speculating what the 
trembling creature was, and how she could have 
drifted there. 

Meanwhile, Suleiman had captured the queen, 
who, as he informed me with a chuckle, was worth 
more than all the rest put together. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

THE INDIAN PRINCESS PROVES A SOURCE OF 
MYSTERY. 

There was still much to he done, and need of haste 
in doing it; but Suleiman’s first duty was to provide 
for the safety of the ladies. 

“Ye shall come with us, ye lovely ones,” he said, 
addressing them with the grand air of a born cavalier, 
“ and we will make you secure from the fury of man. 
Far have we come to deliver you from ruthless hands 
and ignoble bondage.” 

“And who instructed thee in our condition?” de- 
manded the Circassian, flashing with queenly rage. 
“Thy deliverance, methinks, will be slavery, thy 
care a perpetual evil.” 

“Sweet rose of the garden,” replied Suleiman, “it 
becometh not thy beauty to be in a tempest. Thy lord 
is far from hence; my beauteous one, and his return to 
thy lovely bosom uncertain. Wherefore shouldst thou 
tarry here to be abased?” 

“There can be no worse abasement than going 
with thee,” she snapped. “ Leave us to such chance 


A SOURCE OF MYSTERY. 


205 


as fate may bring; and get ye gone, for ye are but 
portionless Bedouins of the desert.” 

“Nay,” answered Suleiman, more insinuatingly 
than ever. “We cannot leave what hath enraptured 
our eyes. Make thyself old and ugly, my charmer, 
and we will fly from thy presence. But while thou 
puttest the rose and lily to shame, thou must blame 
Heaven, not us, if we refuse to depart without thee. 
And now, my adorable, there is business going on 
in which I must bear a hand. Will my queen there- 
fore deign to accompany us to a place of safety, 
where she may be guarded from harm?” 

The lady would have broken out again ; but Sulei- 
man had no more time to waste on words — 

“Conduct thy mistress, the queen, and her fair 
companion, the gem of India, whither we lead,” he 
said, turning sharply upon Baruk. “ Is there a spot 
of safety about this nether pit?” 

“It is as my lord seeth,” answered Baruk. 

Suleiman considered for a moment, then turned 
again to the ladies. 

“ Have the lights of Amood’s eyes any possessions 
they would fain carry with them,” he inquired with 
a courtly smile — “trinkets, jewels, costly robes? 
Methinks they must have. And we will ourselves 
help them to collect their riches. Stay ye here while 
we search.” 

Accordingly, although the queen declared vocif- 
erously they had no wish but to see the last of us, they 
were consigned to the care of a strong guard, of which 
I was one, while the rest, under the guidance of 
Baruk, went in search of valuables. They returned 
after a little with many sparkling caskets full of 
precious gems; loads of various stuffs of a richness 
unsurpassed; cameTs-hair cloaks, elaborately in- 
wrought with gold; Indian silks of manifold dyes 
and patterns; Khorassan brocades; bundles of rugs 
and shawls; and sashes enough to furnish ten regi- 
ments of sheiks; and, more important than all, two 
more of the principal ladies of the household, 


296 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


“Just one thing more ere we depart,” said Su- 
leiman gleefully. “There is enough of the wine 
of Shiraz to float a thousand ships, and, by the 
Prophet’s beard, we go not without a share of it.” \ 

They went off again, presently coming back laden, 
till they groaned, with skin bottles of many sizes 
bursting with wine. 

The burdens were set down, and Suleiman looked 
with joy at the pile, and from the pile to the ladies, 
and from the ladies back at the pile. 

“It is good,” he remarked. “Said I not that 
Amood was a mighty benefactor of his kind? There 
is enough here to make the black tents merry for a 
year.” . 

But it was a hard question how to get all this plun- 
der away. We had won it by force, and by force 
might lose it ; for in such adventures as looting castles, 
property changes hands with unreckonable celerity. 

Suleiman stepped to the latticed window, sent it 
into shivers, and looked down. We were on the outer 
wall of the castle, and our beasts could not be far off. 
Suleiman’s face beamed. 

“ There be ropes where riches so much abound, my 
gazelle?” he said, turning to Baruk. 

“ Yea, my lord.” 

“Take him, and bring a rope, Ali,” said Suleiman 
to a man at his side. “ Two, if thou canst find them. 
And make thy best speed.” 

Ali and Baruk were out of sight in a moment, and 
Suleiman went on with his instructions. 

“ And thou, Ibrahim, my trusty right hand, take 
with thee three others, cleave your way down to 
where we left our horses, and tell our fellows to bring 
them under this window; the matter will be easy. 
Get camels, too, if ye can lay hands on them, and 
our fair ones would ride the easier in litters. I will 
swing a lamp in the window as a signal to thee, and 
forget not, good Ibrahim, to make haste.” 

“I will not forget,” said Ibrahim, choosing his 
companions. 


A SOURCE OF MYSTERY. 


297 


In a few minutes, Ali and Baruk were back with two 
stout ropes, which were made fast to two spear-heads 
driven into the floor. 

“We will slip down these quicker than the angels 
came down Jacob’s ladder,” remarked Suleiman, 
throwing the loose ends out of the window. “ Now, 
my good Ibrahim, do not tarry.” 

Ibrahim did not tarry. Even sooner, I think, than 
was expected by our impatient leader, there was a 
sound of grunting and snorting, and low voices in the 
darkness underneath that made him smile. 

“ Art thou there, Ibrahim ?” called Suleiman, softly. 

“I am here,” answered Ibrahim in the same 
tone. 

“And four camels, by the memory of the great 
Saad.* How didst thou find them, my gay one?” 

“ By taking their keepers unawares, and sending 
them swiftly to the Prophet’s bosom,” replied Ibra- 
him. 

“ Malec will seethe thee in fiery brimstone for thy 
good deeds, Ibrahim,” chuckled Suleiman. 

Chattels and ladies were lowered, the latter not with- 
out difficulty, for three were timid and the fourth re- 
bellious; but Suleiman, who was experienced and ex- 
peditious in such matters, had soon the whole four, 
as he expressed it, in Ibrahim’s bosom below. Then 
slipping down ourselves, and hurriedly forming a cir- 
cle about our spoils, we thrust and cut a way to the 
comparative quiet of an orchard, where the goods 
were loaded and the ladies provided with litters. This 
care was taken not so much for their comfort as that 
they might depreciate as little as possible in value. 

We had not finished when dense volumes of smoke 
were seen ascending from the castle. 

“What the Bedouin leaves the flames will have,” 
remarked one of the men, as a sudden blaze lit up the 
sky. 

“Idiots!” growled Suleiman, who intended to go 
back for more plunder. And in the next breath, 
* A notorious Arab freebooter, 


298 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


“ Mother of the Prophet, listen to the roaring and the 
rushing ! Our kindred will be about us like clouds of 
hornets; it is time to be away.” 

If we wished to hold our own it was time. So, 
mounting in the light of the burning pile, we made 
off with all speed. 

It was not easy to escape from that whirlpool of de- 
struction and keep our plunder intact. At the start 
we had to fight our way step by step, and at times 
the handling was so rough and the odds so heavy that 
it seemed we must lose all we had captured. But we 
kept well together, and partly by strategy, partly by 
a free and active use of steel, we got out at last with 
no more serious mishap than the loss of a little blood. 
To that we were by this time accustomed, and it did 
not hurt our spirits, though one man — evidently a re- 
cent addition to the band — made much ado about a 
couple of broken ribs till he was laughed and ridiculed 
out of his complaints. 

We made straight for the desert as our safest re- 
treat, never drawing rein till the sun was well up, and 
we were once more alone. Then we halted to refresh 
ourselves with some of the good things provided by 
Amood Sinn. But before there was either eating or 
drinking Suleiman drew up the band and made a lit- 
tle speech. 

“We have with us four princesses as beautiful as 
the morning and as soft as the dove,” he said, making 
a salaam towards the litters. “ We value the gifts of 
Heaven, and my purpose in speaking is to let it be 
known that, by my life, the man who layeth a profane 
finger on these fair ones shall die the death of a dog. 
I am ready to deal with any man who disputeth that 
condition. But lest your hearts rebel, know there is 
much to comfort us. W e shall feast, my merry ones. 
Yea, eat and drink in honour of our victories. There 
is a sweet savour already in my nostrils. Here are 
rivers of the wine of Shiraz, and bread baked in the 
ovens of Amood. Heaven protect him in his adver- 
sity!” 


A SOURCE OF MYSTERY. 


299 


The company applauded and fell merrily to eating 
and drinking; the men squatted on the ground beside 
their horses: the women chastely withdrawn in their 
litters and attended by the obsequious Baruk. 

The meal was not over when Suleiman and Ibra- 
him were discussing our next movement. Much was 
said in a low voice about pilgrims and caravans and 
the pecuniary value of ladies such as we happened to 
possess ; and though I did not hear all, yet, by putting 
two and two together, I understood that more rob- 
beries were in the wind. In short, the pious of the 
Moslem world were then making the annual pilgrim- 
age, and we were bent on relieving them of some of 
their superfluous wealth. 

The caravan on which we were anxious to bestow 
our attentions was the one that, starting from Yemen, 
proceeds by the mountain course to Taif. As we 
knew almost to a day the date at which it would ap- 
pear, we could post ourselves satisfactorily and await 
its coming with composure. The place of reception 
was in the heart of the mountains, in a deep and ugly 
defile where two camels could scarcely walk abreast, 
and a caravan could be harried with impunity. We 
rode hard, gained our position in good time, hid like 
foxes among the rocks, and prayed that the Hadjis 
would not tarry. While waiting their arrival I had 
an experience that would be worth a fortune to a 
story-teller. 

The sun had set and the night had closed in rather 
dark. I had been attending to my mare, and was re- 
turning to my companions, when Baruk, sidling up 
with an air of profound mystery, whispered that the 
Indian princess wished to have speech with me. 

“ But beware how thou goest,” he said, “a score of 
lances would be sheathed in thy body if thou wert 
caught talking to her in secret. ” 

“ What does she want with me, Baruk?” I inquired 
softly. 

“ She will tell thee. Follow me, ” he answered, glid- 
ing into the darkness. 


300 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


The danger and the mystery were of course an ir- 
resistible incentive, and I immediately turned after 
him. We found the princess crouching behind a 
big stone, having by some pretence managed to get 
away from the other women. Saluting her quietly, 
I told her I was at her service; but instead of an- 
swering me she turned to Baruk. 

“Good, good Baruk,” she said in the sweetest of 
voices, and in broken Arabic, “gracious Baruk, go 
back to the litters. Say I am praying to the night; 
it is a custom with my people; it is a rite, say a rite, 
my Baruk. Fear not, I will return to thee. He,” 
indicating me, “ will keep me safe.” 

Baruk looked a little dubious, but he went. 

“Thou art a stranger in this land,” she said to me 
quickly, when we were alone. “ In India we see thy 
people; but this is not India. Thy face made my 
heart leap in the palace. Art one of the robbers? — 
what do people call them?” 

“ Bedouins.” 

“ Yea, that is it. Art one of them?” 

A man must not trust himself unreservedly to the 
first minx he meets, so I answered warily. But her 
eager intelligence found all she wanted in my re- 
ply- 

“See, I take thy hand and kiss it — so,” seizing my 
hand and putting it to her lips. “ It is sin in our re- 
ligion. But I have been taught. I am a daughter 
of the holy Prophet ; but there is more than one road 
to Heaven. Is that not good truth?” 

I had to admit it was fairly good truth, and excel- 
lent Christian doctrine. 

“Yea, yea, I know,” she went on quickly, and her 
voice was getting thrilling with suppressed ‘emotion. 
“ I have been taught — more than one road to Heaven 
— that is what thy people say. Now listen — dost know 
we are guilty of a great big sin, and the big knife 
would cut off thy head if eyes discovered us; but thy 
people are brave. Art afraid?” she asked, coming so 
close I could hear the quick beating of her heart. 


A SOURCE OP MYSTERY. 


301 


There was a rustle behind, and she turned, holding 
her breath. 

“It is only Baruk,” she said, much relieved. 
“ Good Baruk, just a little space longer; tell them, if 
they ask thee, that I am safe. Thou comest from far 
across the sea — people call it England,” she continued, 
turning back to me. 

More and more puzzled, I admitted she was right. 

“I knew,” she said, with an eagerness in which 
pleasure and pain were mingled . “ Thy face proclaim- 
ed thy country. I know thy people — yea, one is — 
but never mind ; that is too fast. Listen, art thou go- 
ing to remain with the robbers, the Bedouins?” 

Baruk came creeping back again, declaring she 
would be missed, and he slain. 

“Thou shalt go straight to Paradise, Baruk,” she 
replied, soothingly. “Just one little space more.” 

And he went away again. 

“ Now, art thou going to stay?” 

“Not if I can help it,” I blurted, almost without 
knowing what I said. 

“ That is good,” she said, with a little rocking mo- 
tion of delight. “ There is not time to tell everything 
now. If thou goest, take me with thee. Let them not 
keep me to do their will — pollution, that is it. Thou 
wilt save me, and I will love thee — for ever. Listen, 
I was performing the pilgrimage; they captured the 
caravan, and slew my father. There was one — but 
there is not time to tell it. It was Amood Sinn that 
was wicked, and now I know he hath been punished, 
because his palace is in ashes. A battle perchance. 
Wert thou in it?” 

I answered in the affirmative, getting ever deeper 
involved in the mysteries surrounding this strange 
woman. 

“ And didst thou see one there like thyself? — Hush ! 
hush !” 

Baruk came again, saying he would risk his life for 
us no longer. 

“ Good Baruk, thou wilt not die,” said my compan- 


302 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


ion. “ One turn more — one little turn, that is it. The 
night is cool; thy mind will he at ease.” 

“Thou wilt have me speared like a goat,” he de- 
murred. Nevertheless he left us once more. 

“There is another caravan coming,” pursued my 
companion, breathlessly, “ I heard it from Baruk ; let 
us join in. Trust Baruk for his love of gold. I will 
trust thee in honour of thy people.” And she was 
lost in the darkness like a shadow. 

I returned to my place, and presently got a word 
with Baruk. 

“ What is this strange thing that the Indian prin- 
cess sayeth?” I asked, putting my mouth close to 
his ear, for there was need of dead secrecy. 

“ Nay, 1 am not a magician,” he answered with the 
oily evasiveness of the Oriental who is chary about 
committing himself. 

“ Let us have no pretence of ignorance,” I said, 
feigning anger. “ What do they mean?” 

“ My lord frighteneth me.” 

The voice of Suleiman was heard calling for some 
one; and in the same instant the fires leaped up, 
emitting a fitful light which admonished us to be care- 
ful. If we were caught consulting, our lives would 
not be worth ten minutes’ purchase. 

“Look here, Baruk,” I said, “I’m thy friend. : 
What is the state of affairs? Tell it clearly.” 

“ May I never be in such a position again,” groaned 
Baruk. “ Hark you, we deal with treachery and cruel 
lances. What is our blood? Nothing. What is the 
spoil and the price of these women? Everything. 
Yet we talk of that which, were it known, would make 
us dead men on the spot.” 

My thoughts were exactly like his; but a woman 
had asked my aid, and I could not refuse it. Besides 
what love or allegiance did I owe the Bedouins? 

“Freedom is more than life,” I said, with an 
audacity that was not entirely genuine. “We 
must not be timorous. Now look you, I am a 
stranger. Thinkest thou I came here to rob? We 


A SOURCE OF MYSTERY. 


303 


help ourselves, good Baruk, in helping the Indian 
princess. ” 

“ She hath untold riches ; she can recompense, ” mur- 
mured Baruk. “Yet perchance when she was safe, 
she would forget us.” 

“ And if thou remainest here, art not thou a bond- 
man for ever? Nay, who is to hinder these fellows 
from taking thee out into the desert, and stripping 
thee naked, and leaving thee so that when the wolves 
were done with thy bones, they would be the sport of 
the winds?” 

“ There is much in what thou sayest.” 

Suleiman was calling again, and more impatiently 
than before. 

“ I will speak with thee again,” whispered Baruk, 
hurriedly. “ It is not safe now.” And the darkness 
swallowed him. 

Sauntering carelessly back to the fires, which 
burned red and low now, I threw myself on the 
ground to ruminate on all I had just heard. 

We were riotously merry. There was an abun- 
dance, indeed a superabundance of food, wine flowed 
like water in the rainy season, and the coffee and to- 
bacco were the best on earth. 

Suleiman rising presently, went to see that the 
ladies were being properly attended, and came back 
praising the wondrous docility of the Indian 
princess. I smoked, looking up at the brightness 
of Orion, and said nothing. But in my heart was 
the quivering exultation of the schemer who has 
important business on hand, and knows that failure 
is death. 

My next move was, to enlighten Tabal. It was 
done in a few words, for now that the heavens were 
bright, the chance of private talk was small. But 
Tabal quickly understood all, and fervently swore a 
vow of Jealty. To Tabal’s mind there was but one 
serious difficulty in our project of escape. 

“ We go with the caravan to Mecca?” he said. 

“Assuredly; it will do us all good.” 


304 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


“ But thou art not of our religion. Th ink what that 
meaneth. ” 

“I am a better Mohammedan than thyself, good 
Tabal. There will not be in the Great Mosque a more 
devout Hadji than the comrade whom thou callest 
Christian. Are we not brothers? Did not thy father 
put the light of the Koran into my soul? Dost thou 
think I am careless about getting to Heaven? Tabal, 
I will do the pilgrimage as a follower of the Prophet.” 

Tabal was convinced, and we parted to ignore each 
other very studiously for the rest of the night. 

Near the dawn, when the world was black, and men 
were heavy, Baruk returned to me. He had got over 
his wavering, and was ready for the most desperate 
exploit. 

“We will put on the green turban* together, Baruk, ” 
I said joyfully, after listening to his promise of help. 
“ Now tell me the name of our princess.” 

“They call her Ranee.” 

“ A pretty name,” I remarked. “ Let us make her 
happy.” 

Thereupon, as briefly and minutely as possible with 
words, I gave him instructions both for Ranee and 
for himself. Fortunately, the simplicity of the plan 
of attack enabled us to make our arrangements with 
confidence and tolerable accuracy. 

With the first blink of light, we were on the look 
out for the caravan ; but the day had worn well into 
the afternoon before our scouts brought word it was 
at the mouth of the defile. At the intelligence that 
it was coming we settled down in our hiding-place, 
as still as dead men, the horses being kept some dis- 
tance behind, lest they should neigh and betray us. 
Tabal and I had many unsuspected thoughts, but as 
it would be unwise to express them, and it was im- 
possible to communicate with either Ranee or Baruk, 
we could only wait in silent eagerness and faith. 

The pilgrims sent forward a party of half a dozen 

* The badge or sign of such as have performed the pilgrim- 
age to Mecca. 


A SOURCE OP MYSTERY. 


305 


horsemen, and we were ordered further back. Sulei- 
man himself, with one companion to act as messen- 
ger, remained to observe, their place of vantage being 
the hollow top of a great rock which projected, caus- 
ing a curve in the path below. Lying there flat, they 
had an almost uninterrupted view of the pass, and by 
deft clambering, the messenger could reach our am- 
bush without fear of detection. 

To keep us keen, and in touch with what was going 
on, Suleiman sent frequently to tell us of the move- 
ments of the horsemen. We learned that passing 
right beneath his hiding-place, they rode to the head 
of the gorge, looked dutifully about among the rocks, 
and discovering nothing, returned light-heartedly to 
report the way clear. Then the caravan, wishing 
no doubt to get to open ground again as speedily as 
might be, swung its huge length into the defile, and 
| came trailing on like an endless serpent. 

Suleiman, watching it closely, sent back word to 
I look to our horses and arms, as the prospect was glo- 
rious beyond his experience. A little later the order 
for action made the blood race in our veins. Half of 
us were to go to the foot of the gorge, and half to the 
head, so that the pilgrims might be engaged simul- 
taneously in front and rear, and so the readier induced 
i to relinquish a part of their superabundant riches. 

1 The response was as prompt as might be expected of 
i men whose notion of Heaven is eternal plundering. 

Almost before the words of command were out of the 
1 messenger’s mouth, we were clattering off into sun- 
less chasms, and by beetling archways, and up and 
down dizzy steeps that only robbers with no soul to 
save, would have faced. Tabal and I were of those 
who went to the foot, and fervently we prayed the pil- 
grims might have a good courage, and open arms for 
distressed strangers. 

In the course of a break-neck ride, we came often 
into violent contact, and in one of the collisions, while 
pretending vehement anger at the rough usage, I 
managed to get a word in Tabal’s ear. 

20 


306 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


“Whatever happens, let us stick to each other,” I 
said, in a quick aside. “ Our signal for the dash is 
when we see Baruk and Ranee descending among 
the rocks.” 

“Never leech clung as I will cling to thee,” an- 
swered Tabal. And then he began to abuse his horse 
for the son of a mule that couldn’t keep his feet in a 
plain road ; and the Bedouins, being closely occupied, 
saw or suspected nothing. 

Reaching the bottom before the pilgrims were quite 
ready for us, we had to halt behind a bluff. The 
tail of the caravan still wriggled outside the mouth of 
the pass, and it would be folly to attack till it had 
disappeared after the body. While waiting, Ibra- 
him, our captain, gave his instructions briefly and 
pointedly. We were to rush the camel-men, throw 
them into utter confusion, seize as many laden animals 
as we could lay hands on, and make oft* with them 
to the rear as fast as steel could urge them. Such as 
were free would protect the others, but as many as 
could w T ere to pounce on some piece of property. In 
short, our business was more to pillage than to fight, 
and if the pilgrims were not unreasonable not a man 
of them need lose his life. 

W ith beating hearts and a burning impatience we 
kept still till the tail should have wriggled itself into 
the mountain cleft. As if to try our self-control, our 
watchers were constantly reporting that the moment 
for the onset had come, and then immediately con-* 
tradicting themselves, to reaffirm their first intelli-j 
gence the next minute. This went on until we were 
in a fever, and ready to rush from our concealment 
at all hazards. As for Tabal and me, if you have 
ever lain in wait with the merest chance between life 
and death and a frantic desire to try it, you will un- 
derstand our feelings. Being apart, we could not so 
much as exchange a whisper, and all we had to 
restrain and encourage us were the muttered curses 
and comments of our comrades. Once a horse of 
keen scent neighed, and Ibrahim nearly felled the 


THE HOLY CITY. 


307 


brute, thinking we were betrayed; but the tail con- 
tinued to wriggle slowly on, and we breathed again. 
Then word came that the last man was within the 
pass; the next moment we were in the open and 
galloping furiously to the attack. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE HOLY CITY. 

The rush was made strictly according to orders, with 
preconceived, that is to say, perfectly satisfactory re- 
sults. Shouting “ Techbir ! techbir !” at the pitch of 
our voices, we dashed through the mouth of the defile 
hard upon the tail of the caravan, discharging our 
pieces and whirling our lances with the sudden in- 
appeasable fury in which the Bedouin in a foray has 
no equal. The point of the tail crumpled up like a 
feather at a fierce fire, and, as we smote and seized, 
yelling the while to keep up the panic, there were 
responsive noises in front that told the cavaran had 
come to an involuntary halt to be robbed. 

What followed the onset I could not tell in detail if 
I were to be examined on oath, for I had many things 
to think of, and thieving was the last and least of 
them. I saw the Hadjis jumbled together in the 
centre like an ice- jam in a river. I saw two clumps 
of spears, one in front and one behind, flashing 
viciously in the sun ; and I saw many camels going 
swiftly out of the mouth of the pass in charge of new 
owners. These salient facts the eye took in uncon- 
sciously, without the ability to catch minute particu- 
lars. 

I got the impression that the Hadjis offered but 
feeble resistance, and that, as I subsequently learned, 
was true. There is a reason for everything, and the 
pilgrims had a valid one for preferring their lives to 
their property. Human nature being sinful in spite 
of Prophet and Koran, caravans start expecting to be 


308 


IN THE HAY OF BATTLE. 


plundered, nor fail to make provision accordingly. 
Immemorial custom and experience have taught the 
Hadji that it is the will of Heaven he should suffer 
loss at the hands of wicked men in the performance 
of the prime religious duty of life. Moreover, the 
pious Mohammedan, on his way to the Holy City, 
has such an aversion to broils and bloodshed, that he 
would rather sacrifice a fair portion of his worldly* 
goods than present himself at the Prophet’s shrine 
with red hands. These things the astute Bedouin 
knows and profits by; the time of the pilgrimage is 
his harvest, and he reaps with a wide sickle. 

That knowledge was acquired after waids. Just 
then I had personal concerns which precluded the 
gathering of information. How were Tabal and 1 to 
make good our desertion in the face of so much bris- 
tling steel, backed by such savage fury? That was 
the pressing matter. As the crucial moment drew 
near the attempt seemed moie and more desperate, 
nay, it seemed hopeless. I did not forget that we 
were following a woman’s idea, and at that time 
(Heaven forgive me) I had but a mean opinion of 
the wisdom of the sex as a whole. The situation was 
of the sort that gives one a shivering in the back 
though the sun may be hot. So soon as we should 
show a sign of defection, the Bedouin lances would 
be after us, and in case we were caught, would stab 
without mercy. That was certain. Had it been 
equally certain how the Hadjis would receive us the 
matter would be simple or, at any rate, simplified. 
But our reception was, to put the best face on it, ex- 
ceedingly doubtful, for the Arab, be he Bedouin or 
pilgrim, is ever sniffing for treachery and suspecting 
he smells it. 

Another difficulty was that we could not make the 
dash at the most opportune moment for ourselves. 
We must wait for Ranee and Baruk, and the waiting, 
as I was but, too read} 7 to whisper to myself, was not 
unlikely to be fatal. The} 7 who depended on a woman 
in such an affair were leaning on a broken reed. That 


THE HOLY CITY. 


309 


was my feeling one moment. The next, I am glad 
to say, I was ashamed of it. Yet the fact stared me 
in the face that if Ranee and Baruk did not come 
quickly our chance would be gone; we might go back 
with the children of the desert to shame and "cruelty 
and violence, and it might be to lasting bondage. 

The band had already distrained more than the 
legitimate tax — that is to say, had taken all the loose 
camels — and were pressing on for more than their 
dues, for, having the right of the strong, they were 
hard to satisfy. 

Tabal and I, for unsuspected reasons, were well to 
the front, and could be minutely observed by the 
plundered, a circumstance that might tell awkwardly 
against us later on. What was keeping the idiotic 
Baruk? Had the coward rued his promise? If so, 
by all we held dear, dearly would he pay for it. We 
were very hot with fighting and seizing and shouting, 
and two of us were beginning to have tremours of de- 
spair, when at last, as we were retiring with our booty, 
Tabal’s sharp eye espied two skulking figures slippng 
craftily down among the rocks. By this time the 
Hadjis, animated by the spirit of the wronged, were 
behaving in a way calculated to alarm those who 
meant presently to appeal to their humanity. Baruk 
and Ranee made their appearance at the very worst 
moment. But there was no time to grumble or make 
comments. We must take fortune as we found it, 
and redeem our pledges or die. 

So I gave Tabal the word, and reversing our spears 
to indicate we were not hostile, we drove the spurs 
into our horses, and hounded from among the 
Bedouins, calling out we were Hadjis, and praying 
for protection. At the same time we drew attention 
by pointing and shouting to the two clambering down 
the rocks. 

Thinking, as indeed they well might, that this was 
but a ruse to get their ranks broken, the pilgrims 
hurriedly formed up, presenting a front of levelled 
spears and gun barrels, and faces which said plainer 


310 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


than any language that we advanced at the peril of 
our lives. And as they stood close together to re- ; 
ceive us, there went up a diabolic shout behind; we 
glanced back with freezing blood to see a dozen of 
our late comrades at our heels, with lance shafts 
hugged after the manner of men resolved to slay. 

The moment that followed was such as a man re- 
calls in his sleep, with a horrid cold sweat, and a 
creeping of the flesh, and groanings and writhings. | 
In front was a gleaming hedge of steel, forbidding, : 
impenetrable; behind was more steel, already poised? 
to strike by men to whom revenge was as blood to the 
lion. Half a moment more and we should be fuller 
of holes than a fisherman’s net. 

“Save us! Save us!” we screamed. “We are no 
enemies ; but friends. For the love of the Prophet, 
take us in !” 

There was not the twentieth part of a second to 
decide. The pilgrims looked swiftly from us to our 
pursuers. The steel hedge opened, we shot through, 
and it closed quickly again as the Bedouins wheeled 
within a yard of it, brandishing their lances, and 
screeching vengeance. They stood awhile vociferat- 
ing, then, vowing they would yet give us to the ' 
vultures, slowly retired to look after their booty. 

Meantime, Ranee and Baruk were scrambling down 
with the breathless haste of fear, straight upon the 
centre of the caravan, as being the point remotest ^ 
from the Bedouins. We spoke earnestly for them, 
but indeed they required no pleader, their own dis- , 
traded manner being ample evidence of their need. ] 
As the descent was extremely hazardous, I hurried 
forward to assist Ranee, and as I ran some shots were 
fired from above. Poor Ranee gave a little scream, \ 
and, losing her hold, came toppling into my arms. I 
put her gently on the ground, thinking she must have 
been hit; but a cursory examination showed she suf- 
fered from nothing worse than fright. 

Baruk, however, did not escape so easily. Some 
of the flying slugs found a billet in his left arm, and 


THE HOLY CITY. 


311 


the good man being unaccustomed to pain, cried out 
till the gorge rang with his wailings. But there was 
little opportunity to console him, for the children of 
the desert, having levied their tax and been balked in 
their revenge, had disappeared like water in sand, and 
the caravan was ordered to proceed. So the great 
snake stretched out its cumbrous length once more, 
making what haste it could to quit such ugly quar- 
ters. Ranee clung to me like a scared child, mur- 
muring how good I was, and wondering, with many 
ejaculations that were strange to me, if we were } T et 
safe. I did what I could to encourage her, till a 
venerable man with a long white beard and a com- 
passionate manner, thinking she might be better else- 
where, led her off to the company of her own sex. 

No questions were asked of us strangers till the car- 
avan halted safe on the'open plain. Then, while fires 
were being lighted, we were taken before some of the 
chief men, and requested to give an account of our- 
selves. Tabal, who was a plausible fellow, with a 
ready invention, got through the ordeal quickly and 
well ; but I had more trouble in proving myself a pious 
Mohammedan of the name of Falid Walid. I was 
sore driven, and lied like an epitaph, pra} T ing the Lord 
to aid me. I hope I shall be forgiven, seeing what 
was at stake. Perhaps it was owing to my face, or 
it may have been from some defect in my accent; but 
one scurvy priest, who was the most active of the in- 
quisitors, made a point at the beginning of doubting 
all I said. 

“ Art thou not a heretic unbeliever?” he asked, bend- 
ing a pair of uncommonly sharp black eyes on me. 
“ Art not thou an enemy of our holy religion, a scoff- 
er, an infidel? Here, what sayest thou?” he de- 
manded of Tabal. “ Is not this fellow an unbeliever?” 

“ As Lahek Allah, may Heaven set you right,” re- 
plied Tabal, with a rapt and pious expression. “ Surely 
never man knew his Koran better.” 

“ We will see,” said the priest. 

Whereupon, whipping out his Hamail or greasy 


312 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


pocket copy of the sacred volume, he began to cate- 
chize me with the air of one who would say, “ Now 
you shall see me do up this heretic.” 

But in my enforced leisure I had not studied the 
Koran in vain. To every question came a pat answer 
in the very words of the Prophet himself, till the 
priest, first amazed, then softened, and finally con- ’ 
vinced, thrust the book back into his bosom, and em- \ 
braced me as a true believer. 

“ Marhaba! marhaba! welcome! welcome!” he 
said with a fervour more embarrassing than his doubt. 

“ I crave thy pardon for my distrust. Thou art indeed 
a worthy follower of our holy Prophet. Would that 
all his sons knew his words so well. And now, sit 
thee down. El hamdu V lllali, praise be to Heaven, 
it hath fallen to our lot to rescue a believer from the 
fangs of these wolves. Serrimo (eat).” And forth- 
with we all set to work with an appetite that the ex- 
ercise with the Koran had in no wise dulled. 

It required constant watchfulness, however, to pre- 
serve me from lapsing into Christian barbarities and 
heathenisms. Even Tabal had to be kept out of my 
inner secrets; and as to Ranee, though I doubted not 
her desire to be secret, I had a careful remembrance 
of the natural weakness of a woman’s tongue. 

Once satisfied with our credentials, the pilgrims 
made us one of themselves. When we spoke of their 
kindness to strangers, their answer was ever the 
same — 

“ Think ye it is the will of God that any true be- 
liever should be left to perish on the way to the Holy 
City? At the gathering of the nations, when the 
angels shall render their accounts of men’s deeds, both 
good and bad, what would be our recompense if we 
were guilty of such a thing?” And somehow it seemed 
to me the spirit was one that Christians who boast of 
their charity njight occasionally imitate with advan- 
tage. 

We travelled fast, and made our destination with- 
out loss by sickness or violence. N o Bedouin molested 


THE HOLY CITY. 


313 


us, because we were two "thousand strong, and our 
way lay through the open where the wily children of 
the desert seldom attack. We went by arid strips and 
fertile pasture lands, among flocks and herds and 
herdsmen that are to-day as they were in the days of 
the patriarchs, and appear not to miss the blessings 
of civilization. We paid extortionate tolls to legal- 
ized robbers for allowing us to pass where all the 
world was free ; and we halted for refection and pray- 
ers beside pleasant wells, that were in no fanciful sense 
the eye of the landscape.* And ever as we drew 
nearer the Holy City, the pace increased and the en- 
thusiasm grew. We smote ourselves on the breast, 
ejaculating fervid passages of the Koran, and many 
would fain have dismounted and run, so ardent and 
inspiring was their joy. 

At last, one evening, as we were winding among 
short stony ravines that edged a verdurous plain, the 
leaders raised an ecstatic shout, and the rest of the 
caravan crushing forward, with glittering eyes and a 
hubbub of shrill noises, beheld in a sort of valley be- 
low them the minarets of Mecca gleaming in the sun 
like a thousand points of fire, the Great Mosque being 
conspicuous in the midst. 

We descended like an avalanche in a storm of dust, 
every Moslem of us beside himself with joy and awe 
and excitement; some praying, some sobbing, some 
shouting, some frantically beating their breasts and 
plucking at their robes as if to tear them to tatters, 
others unconsciously spurring their horses and prod- 
ding their camels to the imminent risk of many lives, 
and all behaving like people in a frenzy. Reaching 
the foot of the declivity, we burst into such a scene of 
commotion as could greet human eye and ear nowhere 
else under the wide cope of heaven. 

We talk of Babel, but the credit of the real confu- 
sion of tongues belongs to Mecca. There were a hun- 
dred thousand strangers in the city, and, judging by 

*The Bedouin, living mostly among torrid sands, very ap- 
propriately calls water “the eye of the landscape.” 


314 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


the ear, ten times as many tongues and dialects. 
There were faces of every imaginable hue and shape, 
from every known clime; and costumes that only a 
mad tailor could realize in delirious visions of the 
night. The elect of the believers were there from Tur- 
key and Greece, from China and Barbary and Tim- 
buctoo, from Egypt, Palestine, and the dark heart of 
Africa, from Persia and the regions of the Indus, 
from Hindustan, Malacca, and the Asiatic Isles; and 
from many far-separated places besides, gathered at 
incalculable cost and indescribable trouble and dis- 
comfort to worship according to the doctrines of Islam. 

Yet the tumult was certainly not such as one asso- 
ciates with religious festivals. Men using the lan- 
guage of troopers in a rage were hauling wildly at 
apathetic camels that appeared to have an insupera- 
ble bias in favour of standing still, and straining 
titanically to stuff them in holes and corners that could 
not possibly accommodate anything larger than a cat; 
horses were rearing and backing and dancing, their 
owners the while threatening each other with instant 
death ; ladies were screaming in fear of having their 
litters upset and their sacred beauty exposed to the 
public gaze ; householders and visitors wrangled and 
gesticulated as to the value of lodgings, and over all 
were a million ear-splitting cries that seemed to rise 
out of the very earth. 

We did not a little ourselves to add to the din and 
confusion ; for we had a goodly number of beasts to 
dispose of, and voluble tongues in our heads to argue 
against the obstinacy of man and brute. It took sev- 
eral hours of arduous pulling and pushing and vocif- 
erating to get ourselves and our belongings housed; 
but the enterprise was at length accomplished, just 
as the sun, the only street lamp of Mecca, was drop- 
ping out of sight. Then, having dined sumptuously 
on roast fowl, eggs, bread, and coffee — rare delicacies 
after the hard fare of the desert — we lay down, to 
dream of the great things that were before us. 

Anxious to show ourselves 'patterns of piety, Tabal 


THE HOLY CITY. 


315 


and I lost no time in assuming the ihram, as a special 
mark and declaration of our devoutness, taking care 
to bathe and perfume ourselves in the strictest man- 
ner of tha orthodox before putting it on. This famous 
garment consists of two pieces of linen cloth, one of 
which is wrapped about the loins like a Highland 
kilt, and the other thrown over the upper part of the 
body in such a way as to leave the right arm uncov- 
ered. As no other garment, not even so much as a 
covering for the head, is permitted while it is worn, 
it makes an airy dress, specially in the evening 
and early morning, when the Mecca air is often as 
shrewd as that of Edinburgh. 

Thus habited, we made our way to the Beitullah, 
or temple, a magnificent and imposing building, with 
more gates and galleries and courts and domes and 
colonnades and arches, and marble, granite, and por- 
phyry pillars than I had time to count.* It is con- 
trived for vast multitudes of people, and the space is 
all too small. Ranee we were obliged to leave in the 
porch with a great crowd of her own sex ; for the Mos- 
lem will allow no woman, however beautiful or pious 
or exalted, to set foot in his temple. Thus the Mo- 
hammedan ladies, less fortunate than their Christian 
sisters, are denied the privilege of displaying and 
studying the latest fashions in church. 

Inside, the pavements were full of men in every 
! posture of rapt devotion, some kneeling, some sitting 
with bent heads, others prostrate on the floor. At 
sight of these we stopped for one minute, bowing low 
and uttering a prayer, then, with a solemn measured 
step, we advanced five abreast upon the Caaba, keep- 
i ing our eyes fast upon it. On reaching it, we stopped 
; again; but only for an instant. Proceeding at the 
i same pace as before, we went round it seven times, 

| reciting certain prescribed verses from the Koran, only 

* These things are troublesome to remember after the lapse 
of half a century ; but, on refreshing my memory, I find that 
I the temple has 19 gates, that the pillars number 552, and the 
; domes 152. Most of the pillars are of marble. — A. G. 


316 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


we interrupted ourselves at each round to kiss the 
Black Stone, which, as all believed, was brought di- 
rect from Heaven by the angel Gabriel. This was no 
easy thing to do; for the worshippers crushed forward 
heedless of the frailty of human ribs, or the tender- 
ness of toes, or the uncertainty of tempers. Conse- 
quently, the rite resolved itself into something very 
like a scrimmage, to the great detriment of our per- 
sons and our piety. At the end we broke into wild 
ululations, as if lamenting the death of an empire; 
but presently I discovered that we were not lament- 
ing ; we were praising. 

Having done our duty by the Caaba and the Black 
Stone, we turned to the Zem-zem — that is to say, the 
holy well which God miraculously created for the out- 
cast Hagar and her son, the father of the children of 
the desert. We drank of its waters, and washed in 
them (for the benefit of succeeding Hadjis), but there 
was one pilgrim, at least, who would have taken a 
draught of Epsom salts with more relish. The Zem- 
zem may be good to wash in, but it is not good to 
drink from ; a fact which the Arabs themselves tacitly 
acknowledge by refraining from partaking of its wa- 
ters oftener than once a year. Leaving the Zem-zem, 
we broke again into plangent cries, hoping, as I fan- 
cied, to frighten the devil by sheer force of lung. 

My pen halts in trying to describe with any ade- 
quacy the thoughts and feelings with which I went 
through those exhausting and singular ceremonies. 
Curiosity and contempt and awe and fear and bewil- 
derment were mingled, and now the one was domi- I 
nant and now the other. As a sound Christian I could I 
not help regarding much of the ritual as no better 
than mere mummery and the zeal little above fanati- 
cism. Yet it was impossible to look on the strained, 
yearning, often tearful faces; the prostrate bodies, 
crowding every available inch of floor ; the supplicat- 
ing hands and eyes; and listen to the vehement out- 
pourings of self -accusation, the frantic pleadings and 
petitions, without a solemn emotion, nay, without 


THE HOLY CITY. 


317 


something of the genuine reverence and uplifting of 
the soul, which are of the very essence of religion. 

My conviction of the general depravity of the Arab 
was fixed and immovable. He had redeeming quali- 
ties (I had proved them), but I could not forget his 
serpent ways, his profound duplicity, his unfathoma- 
ble guile, his habitual dishonesty, the deadliness of 
his hatred, and the often still greater deadliness of his 
friendship; and the balancing of his character, the 
weighing of the good in him against the bad, left a 
heavy debit of iniquity to his account. He might be 
the most penitent of sinners in the mosque, but in his 
favourite haunts and following his native bent he 
would continue to cheat, steal, kill; and his boasted 
honour (which at times is surprising) was a ragged 
cloak that rather revealed than concealed his inherent 
wickedness. Take him how you would he was an 
unsavoury egg. 

Yet there was no denying the moving force of his 
fervour in ceremonial worship. He prays with a 
mastery of soul and heart, a fiery ecstasy and exalta- 
tion, a superb spirituality of speech and look and ges- 
ture that the sober Christian, who takes his dose of 
religion regularly and calmly once in seven da} T s, and 
who would sooner forfeit all chance of gaining Para- 
dise than be guilty of the impropriety^ of getting ex- 
cited about liis soul, cannot even faintly imagine. 
When he puts on sackcloth and ashes — shaving his 
head, making his countenance the very mirror and 
image of grief, demeaning his tawny, half-naked body 
as if to ensure perpetual remembrance of its debased 
origin and ultimate fate — and, with confessions of his 
sin and nothingness, cries aloud for mercy, the Mos- 
lem would wring tears of compassion and forgiveness 
from the grimmest of dungeon walls. And when he 
turns to praise and promises, the dungeon would be 
irradiated as with flashes of celestial light. 

I observed that he is profound^ affected in his de- 
votions by the spirit of rivalry. Jealous of being sur- 
passed in religious display, his piety, when pricked by 


318 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


competition, developes into sinjple frenzy. Then the 
erstwhile rogue is whirled aloft to the seventh Heaven 
of beatitude, to be transfigured as if he held confiden- 
tial communion with angels. And when he has said 
his prayers with ravings of self- debasement, and 
praised God in bursts of lyrical and spiritual rapture 
that seem like the continued strains of David’s harp, 
and been purged of his sins and made a saint, he will 
straightway forget his vows and go blithely forth to 
resume his natural vocation of intrigue, lies, slitting 
throats, and rifling pockets. I remembered all that 
when he was deafening me with his repentance and 
enchanting me with his poetry. When he was loud- 
est in his appeals to Heaven to preserve him from 
“ disobedience and hypocrisy and evil conversation and 
evil thoughts,” and to deny his “ skin and his bones to 
the everlasting flames;” when he abjured the devil, 
and stormed against infidels, and wept hysterically, 
and flung his arms about, as it appeared, in transports 
of agony, and smote the pavements with his forehead, 
and licked and kissed the Black Stone, and did a thou- 
sand other things to prove his holiness, — my enthu- 
siasm was tempered by a vivid and ever-present mem- 
ory of his ordinary, everyday attributes. 

It was tempered also by the knowledge, burned into 
my mind a dozen times a minute, of the sort of con- 
sideration I should receive at his hands were he to 
discover my true character. The slightest suspicion 
of my faith would inflame those fanatics to the com- 
mission of deeds that made me cold to think of. I 
knew the kind of charity that would move them, as 
well as if some one were bawling a description of it in 
my ear; and, while exclaiming and ejaculating to 
maintain my deceit, I had pictures of myself being 
torn and thrown to the dogs. That state of mind does 
not conduce to peace or the singleness of mind that 
should accompany religious exercises. 

It increased my disquietude that I was ignorant of 
the forms of procedure. Tabal, like the good fellow 
he was, kept close to me, giving directions by look 




ARAFAT AND THE CAABA— TRAPPED. 


310 


and nod and whisper, and the Mutawwif, or official 
guide, attended us; for it is not unusual for persons 
doing the pilgrimage for the first time to stand in 
need of instruction. But, to me, every hint seemed 
a warning to beware of the hidden dagger, and often 
I turned suddenly to look fear-struck into glittering 
eyes and craned faces. But the ordeal was over at 
last, and I breathed a secret prayer to Heaven, a fer- 
vent Christian prayer of gratitude for permitting me 
to escape with a whole skin. 

As soon as we were through the great door, Ranee, 
whose worship had been briefer than ours, ran to me 
clasping her hands in ecstasy. 

“ Now verily thou art one of us, in spite of thy 
English face,” she said, freezing the blood in my 
veins. 

“For God’s sake, hush!” I whispered excitedly. 
“Not a syllable, as thou lovest me.” 

She looked hurt; but said no more, and I cast a 
rapid glance round for the lurking assassin. But 
Heaven was good to me again; the hubbub had 
drowned Ranee’s incautious speech. 

In the evening we returned to the Beitullah, and 
remained until midnight repeating the scenes of the 
morning. Then, the day’s ceremonies being over, 
we hastened to our quarters to snatch, if possible, a 
few hours’ repose before making the momentous jour- 
ney to the holy Mount of Arafat on the morrow. I 
was dead weary, } T et I slept but little, so busy were 
my thoughts with surging fanatics and hidden knives. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

ARAFAT AND THE CAABA — TRAPPED. 

With the first peep of /lay the pilgrims began to 
pour out of Mecca in a processional torrent that was 
characterized by everything you can think of save 
the decency and order inculcated by the Christian 


320 IN THE DAY OP BATTLE. 

Apostle. It was hard to believe that this was the 
crowd which had made the temple resound with 
groans and supplications on the da # y before; hard 
to believe, indeed, that we were not revellers in some 
wild carnival exclusively devoted to experiments in 
riotous behaviour. In that character we should cer- 
tainly have distinguished ourselves. Beginning with 
profane — extremely profane — songs, we proceeded by 
logical sequence to shocking jests, sarcasms, personal 
remarks and criticisms, bandied insults, laughter and 
great shoutings. What particularly astonished me 
was that the women were for the most part as rude 
and wanton as the men. There were exceptions. 
Ranee was one of them. She, poor thing, trembled 
and screamed, and swooned and recovered in her 
shugduf; while Baruk plied a nimble tongue in re- 
viling those who collided with him and, instead of 
apologizing, made him the butt of their rough-hewn, 
aggravating wit. It was a scene of such license and 
levity as only followers of the Prophet in the exercise 
of a religious duty could furnish. Riders dashed 
into each other in pure devilment, and, lest that 
agreeable diversion should stale, varied it by tr} T ing 
to ride down the more pious pilgrims who performed 
the journey on foot. Sometimes they succeeded, and 
then there would be fierce imprecations and a sudden 
flashing of steel ; but before it was possible to retaliate 
the offenders were charging elsewhere, with roars of 
mocking laughter, and blasphemies that would have 
moved the envy of the selectest barrack in the British 
Empire. 

There was absolutely no respect of persons. The 
grandee had to bear the rude bantering and hustling 
like the beggar that hung impudently to his skirts; 
but the larger companies, such as the Damascus and 
Baghdad caravans (the first of which must have 
numbered ten thousand persons) naturally suffered 
less than the detached groups, of which unfortunately 
we were one. Tabal, I am sorry to say, distinguished 
himself by extraordinary violence and truculency of 


ARAFAT AND THE CAABA — TRAPPED. 321 

conduct, though it is but fair to say on his behalf 
that he felt himself hound to protect me, and thus 
thrust himself into many a breach that he might 
otherwise have avoided. He was inconceivably 
quick with his lance, using point or butt as was 
handiest, and his dexterity speedily won him respect. 

As time passed the riot increased, and the pro- 
fanity. The collisions became more violent and fre- 
quent, the jests ranker, the personalities grosser and 
closer, the curses shriller ; and the freedom broke all 
bounds. Giddy, intoxicated young blades, throwing 
the last shreds of decency to the winds, bawled 
amorous ditties by the sides cf curtained litters] in 
which beauty swung and sighed. 

“ She is blooming as the sun at dawn,” they would 
sing,,“ with hair black as the midnight shades, with 
Paradise in her eyes, her bosom an enchantment, and 
a form waving like the tamarisk when the soft wind 
blows from the soft hills of Nejd.” Then there would 
be cries of “ Leave the fatted ass. Oh, light of my 
soul, wilt thou not vouchsafe us one glimpse of thy 
lovely face?” And then probably the proceedings 
would be interrupted by the swooping of the fatted 
ass upon the singers, who would go off howling in 
merriment like the flower of sports and costermongers 
returning from an English racecourse. 

Some of the older pilgrims, in whose veins the tide 
of life was running low, or who had uncommonly 
black sins to expiate, nobly tried to read their Koran 
and to pray; but so many of their companions were 
possessed (temporarily, it was to be supposed) by the 
devil that the attempt was a ghastly and ludicrous 
mockery. At each repeated failure the pious ones 
would curse their tormentors with curses that would 
make the flesh of a Christian creep, but only made 
the hardened Moslem yell in keener enjoyment. 

We rolled through the Valley of Muna, of which 
we shall hear more by-and-by, and on reaching 
Muzdahlifah, a little further on, interrupted our levity 
to perform the midday prayers. The change in our 
21 


322 


IN THE DAY OP BATTLE. 


demeanour was as wondrous as it w T as sudden. The 
most notorious rioters became as grave and solemn as 
sheiks and priests, and for half an hour were patterns 
of piety, exemplars of holiness. But no sooner was 
the march resumed than the spirit of revelry and pro- 
fanity broke out again, to rage afresh with every 
species of impropriety, every sort of aggravated in- 
decency. 

During the first part of the journey I had been so 
much occupied in taking care of myself and my party 
that I had scant opportunity to note the appearance 
of the vast procession. But on leaving Muzdalifah 
we were near the rear, and so I could see the flood 
flowing on before us — a turbulent and disorderly 
stream, swollen with manifold foulnesses, yet possess- 
ing unique elements of grandeur and impressiveness. ; 
The spectacle indeed was as imposing, as picturesque, 
and as incongruous as the East in moments of tremen- 
dous exertion alone can furnish. The host of white- 
robed, bare-headed pilgrims, close packed in the cen- 
tre, some reading, some praying, more laughing and 
shouting, and not a few gesticulating and cursing; 
the tattered Bedouins scurrying with brandished arms 
along the outskirts; the nondescript Kurd and Turk- 
ish horsemen, ostensibly soldiers of the Sublime 
Sultan, really banditti watching for and seizing every 
chance to plunder ; the big white Syrian dromedaries, 
jingling their silver bells; the tawny camels, snap- 
ping and grunting; the horses; the mules; the asses; 
the shugdufs rocking and tossing like a multitude of 
green umbrellas in a storm ; the takhtrawans of the 
nobles, gorgeous with scarlet and brass; and, above 
all, the Mahmils of Damascus and Egypt, flashing 
their embroideries of wrought gold in the sun — these 
and many minor things of surpassing strangeness 
made up a show which a spectator would not be likely 
to forget were he to exceed the years of Methuselah. 

The progress was not remarkable for speed, being 
at the rate of some two miles an hour. We wound 
through the pass of the “ Two Rugged Hills” in un- 


ARAFAT AND THE CAABA— TRAPPED. 323 

imaginable confusion, and with tumultuous outbursts 
of language that must surely have grieved the listen- 
ing soul of the Prophet; surged past the pillars of 
Alamayn, and then with a rush debouched upon an 
open plain to have our eyes gladdened by the sight of 
the Holy Mount. 

At that we changed like the characters in a fairy 
tale. Bad language, bad behaviour, all triviality, 
levity, and unseemliness ceased as at the waving of 
a magic wand; and we lifted up our voices in a 
chorus of holy joy. We also wept and stretched out 
our hands beseechingly as if the rocks could grant us 
absolution. Many dropped to the ground from ex- 
citement, and several died on the spot, quietly and 
with beatific countenances. These, as I learned, 
were favourites of the Prophet, who were especially 
happy in being called to bliss while they were on 
sanctified ground. Therefore we did not lament, but 
rejoiced exceedingly at their timely translation to 
Paradise. 

Being less fortunate ourselves we had to abate our 
divine exultation, and direct our thoughts yet a little 
to mundane affairs. So, being doomed to survive 
the first burst of devotion, we made haste to choose 
the best ground about Arafat for our tents. 

The process of encamping was not simple nor easy ; 
for the choice ground was small and the multitude 
seeking accommodation very great, and very quarrel- 
some; and so, with the singular consistency of the 
Moslem, there at the very foot of the Holy Hill we 
rated each other like tinkers, and contended for the 
best sites as fiercely as if we were fixing our habita- 
tions for the rest of our lives. After an inordinate 
expenditure of threats, and a reckless indulgence in 
bullying, the tents were at last pitched, and the 
booths, bazaars, and drinking-shops opened. These 
arrangements satisfactorily completed we proceeded 
to enjoy ourselves in diverse manners, the rabble brac- 
ing themselves after the fatigues of arduous spiritual 
exercises with araki and hemp juice from the degraded 


324 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


taverns of Cairo, the elite with the daintier sherbet 
and wine of Shiraz. 

Religion comes on the Moslem in spasms, and with 
rhythmic regularity; he knows its periods of recur- 
rence to a minute, and is deft in employing the lucid 
intervals. The next attack was not due for some 
time yet ; so we surrendered ourselves to the brotherly 
spirit of the wassail ; and let me tell you that pilgrims 
at the Holy Mount of Arafat need no lessons in the 
art and practice of conviviality. We feasted and 
waited for evening prayers in high feather; these 
over, we returned to our carousals with boisterous 
hilarity and appetites whetted for the grossest excess. 

Night fell on a scene of unfettered animation and 
splendid displays. The entire encampment was one 
blaze of variegated light. Artfully arranged clusters 
of lanterns swung and scintillated about the tents, 
making their gold and green and scarlet flash in 
fitful, fascinating brilliancy ; and on all sides rose the 
buzz and clamour of a mighty multitude following its 
instincts unbridled. 

It was impossible to remain incurious or inactive in 
the midst of such festal celebrations; so, having seen 
that Ranee lacked nothing, and informed Baruk that 
his head would answer for her safety, I prepared to 
explore. I was warned not to venture out, for brawls 
are common at Arafat, much blood being sometimes 
spilt there. But I was not to be denied the sights 
because misguided pilgrims happened to be free with 
their weapons. Besides, Tabal was to accompany 
me; and Tabal ’s right arm, with the proper imple- 
ment to back it, was well calculated to inspire a sense 
of security. Accordingly, wrapping our ihrams a 
little closer about us, and sticking turbans on our 
heads (though this was contrary to law), we set forth, 
greatly elated at spying adventures. Tabal tapped 
his long, crooked dagger, laughing lightly, and I felt 
my pistol-hilt, half sorry that it was impossible to 
carry a sword. 

The bazaars were already crowded with rowdy cus- 


ARAFAT AND THE CAABA— TRAPPED. 325 

tomers, who took a delight in badgering the owners, 
and frequently helped themselves without observing 
the formality of payment. In the drinking-shops 
blear-eyed Turks and Egyptians bawled bacchanalian 
songs as old as the art of making spirituous liquors, 
and extolled the charms of absent beauties in strains 
more fervid than delicate. Iwas struck by the strange 
admixture of Western or Northern habit in the 
actions of the drinkers. At times they embraced, at 
times abused each other, and then in an overwhelm- 
ing access of friendship they would combine and 
truculently challenge the world to mortal combat. 
Half clad, three parts drunk, and wholly insane with 
excitement, these revellers were ugly fellows. Often 
they would come reeling out of a reeking tent, their 
eyes like rolling orbs of fire, their mouths spluttering 
with foam, and strike impartially at the first person 
who chanced to fall in their way. We dodged these 
gentlemen with all possible agility, desiring to avoid 
brawls. But we were not always successful, and 
once at least we were landed without warning in 
what threatened to be a serious affray. A gaunt, 
eagle-beaked, hollow-jawed Egj’ptian came lurching 
out of a tent, his drty fez askew, his zaabat flapping 
about his shrunk shanks, his arms whirling like a 
pair of disjointed flails. Catching sight of me he 
stopped, and thrust out a tongue as long as my arm. 

“ Ajami! Ajami! (Persian! Persian!)” he cried 
hoarsely, poising a dagger, as if to use it like a javelin. 
“ By the beard of Aaron, thou shalt defile our tents no 
longer !” 

He took a step forward and stumbled. In the same 
moment Tabal pushed me unceremoniously into the 
shade, without a whisper of explanation. The 
Egyptian recovered himself with a brutal oath, and 
staggered on vociferating, “ Ajami ! Ajami !” and 
flourishing his weapon with a fierce thirst for blood. 
I saw Tabal dart and leap like a goat, and thought 
he had been struck; but a sudden bellow from the 
Egyptian undeceived me. Before I could count five, 


320 IN THE DAY OP BATTLE. 

Tabal had me by the shoulders and round a corner 
into a deep shadow. We could hear the Egyptian $ 
howling with rage and pain; and Tabal chuckled. 

“ He hath got enough for the three da} T s at Arafat,” 
he observed softly. 

“What do you mean, Tabal?” I said in alarm. ; 
“You have not killed him?” 

“I forgot to wait and see,” answered Tabal. 1 
“ Come, lest his tribe be upon us. Their exceeding 
kindness might keep us from prayers, and that would ‘i 
not be forgiven.” 

We went our way quickly, amid a continuance of 
the same extraordinary sights. Here a drunken knot 
would be splitting their throats under the impression 
that they were singing; there another, quarrelling; 
atid, between, Hadjis of austerer sanctimony, r; 
valorously but vainly trying to read the Koran and ■ 
pray. W onders encompassed us, the wonders of the 
Moslem qualifying for Paradise, and there is prob- ‘ 
ably nothing more astonishing in this world. 

Tabal proved himself a lively and entertaining com- 
panion. HisTongue was never still, and his criticisms J 
and comments were often deliciously piquant. 

“Ah!” he would exclaim. “Seest thou j^onder 
creeping Persian? He hath the heart of a coney. He 
need not supplicate with so long a face and so loud a 
voice. He is safe; the devil would not have him. 
Hark, now, to the outcry of that villainous Turk. 
By my faith, Heaven hath blessed him with the voice 
from my father’s ass. I stopped my ears against ■•> 
the braying of that beast, and I tell thee the Turk 
excelleth him. Mark this fellow whose legs twist and 
twine like embracing serpents. Methinks their love 
cometli of too much of the juice of hemp, and his 
tarbush and zaabat have been put on in haste. That 
fellow cometh from under the shadow of the pyra- 
mids. He hath eaten crocodile, which maketli him 
as fleet as a gazelle when there is danger behind. , 
And behold, also, thy dearly-beloved friend the In- 
dian. He glideth like a fox, and pretendeth to be 


ARAFAT AND THE CAABA— TRAPPED. 327 

afraid. Yet trust not to his fear, for perchance his 
ihram hideth a crooked knife. And here is the tent 
of the Emir of Damascus. That is a thing for 
thee to dream about when thou art looking up at the 
stars in the desert. I would I were an Emir. Ho, 
ho! Who is he with the crooked back,” he cried, in 
the midst of his remarks about the advantage of be- 
ing an Emir — “ the crooked back and the eye of flame? 
Methinks from his countenance he is strangely moved. 
Come hither, friend, and declare thy love.” 

I turned laughing to the person thus addressed; 
but at the sight of his face my laugh became a frozen 
stare of horror. Surely I must be mistaken : there 
must be a hideous error. Yet the evidence to the 
contrary was as plain and palpable as flesh and blood 
could make it. There was no mistake about those 
eyes and the horrible mixture of triumph and malice 
that lit the face with a sort of lurid duskiness. It 
was Abram ben Aden risen from the dead to take his 
revenge, which would be the more cruel for the long 
waiting. He had changed monstrously since our 
parting. He seemed twice as old as when we were 
together, and the once straight back was curved and 
gathered into a hump. But that scowling, diabolical 
face could belong to no other man on earth. 

My first sensation was one of sheer cold horror, 
which clogged my feet and bound my tongue. That 
was succeeded b} T a wild impulse to rush forward, 
grasp his hand, and implore his forgiveness. But the 
very archfiend himself would have cowered and 
shrunk before that glare of hatred which seemed to 
shrivel my very soul. 

He looked me all over, steadity, deliberately, up and 
down, head and foot, as if to assure himself of my 
identity. Then a smile like the red flame that licks 
the edge of the brooding thundercloud illumined his 
black countenance. It, said with a fearful and be- 
numbing plainness, “ So I have found you at last, 
then? Well, we shall see who fares best this time.” 
But he did not utter a word ; only he laid his hand on 


328 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


the hilt of his dagger and gave a little nod, terrible 
and curdling, in its significance. Having thus inti- 
mated his intentions he disappeared into the midst of 
a crowd of roysterers. 

I stood staring after him, sick and chill, a circum- 
stance that Tabal noted with some degree of appre- 
hension. 

“ What aileth thee?” he asked with quick solici- 
tude. “ Thy face hath the colour of the dead.” 

“ It is nothing, Tabal,” I answered, “ nothing,” and 
every tone of my voice denied the truth of the words. 

“Yea, there is something,” he rejoined. “I know 
there is something.” 

“ I tell thee there is nothing,” I returned petulantly, 
for I resented this attempt to probe my secret. 

“Thy face telleth another tale,” said Tabal, stub- 
bornly. “ It is of the very hue of ashes. 

At that, being weak and troubled, I broke into 
a spurt of anger, demanding if it was incumbent upon 
me to open my heart to all who chose to question me. 

Tabal’s black eyes flashed with injured pride. 

“Thou needst not be so careful of thy secrets,” he 
said indifferently. “ I would not read them were they 
written on a scroll.” And he turned away as if to 
leave me to my fate. 

Then a new terror seized me. I could not lose my 
sole friend in that place of assassins, and so in my dis- 
may I had called him back before I knew what I was 
about. He came instantly, every spark of his resent- 
ment gone, and in its place a look of anxious inquiry. 

“Tabal,” I said, “do not be offended with me. 
Thou hast judged aright. I am ill. Give me thine 
arm, and let us go back to our tent.” 

“Is that fellow with the crooked back the cause?” 
he asked. “ Speak quickly, lest he escape.” 

“ Ho shedding of blood, Tabal,” I answered; “this 
is the Holy Mount. Come, let me lean on thee. So. 
How, good Tabal, as thou lovest me, let us get to our 
tent. ” 

“ I like not the look of that stranger, ” he remarked ; 


ARAFAT AND THE CAABA— TRAPPED. 


329 


and he would have pressed his questions about Abram 
ben Aden had I not begged of him to spare me. 

Should I tell Tabal what he wanted to know, or 
should I keep my lips tight shut? I had learned many 
things during recent months, and the most important 
of them was the golden value of silence. Yet it 
seemed unfair to Tabal to deny him my confidence, 
and the withholding of it was certainly a fiery torture 
to myself. One moment I felt that I must tell him 
all ; the next that on no account whatever must I say 
a word about my discovery. So, torn by conflicting 
resolutions, and in a feverish turmoil of speculation 
regarding the tactics of my enemy, I made my way 
to the tent. 

A cup of strong coffee and the assiduous ministra- 
tions of Tabal revived me. I saw Ranee, who ob- 
served that I was extremely white, and Baruk, who 
informed me with many excited gestures that a band 
of drunken rascals had fallen upon him, had taken 
liberties with him to the extent of breaking his skull 
and tearing the clothes off his back, and that he 
wanted immediate reparation. I forget the precise 
catastrophe that was to happen if he did not get it. 
These things served to lift me out of myself for a lit- 
tle. But when Tabal and I were again alone together 
the old struggle was renewed. 

It was impolitic to speak; it was impolitic to be si- 
lent. I was alone; unknown and deadly enemies 
were leagued against me; the secret was burning my 
breast ; and, in short, after vowing to myself a score 
of times to tell nothing to Tabal, I told him all. His 
first expression was one of anger with me for not hav- 
ing been prompter and franker at the meeting with 
Abram ben Aden. 

“ Hadst thou told me quickly, thy mind might be 
at ease now,” he said. 

“Hay, nay, Tabal; I want no man’s blood on my 
head,” I rejoined. 

“Perchance thou wouldst rather have thy blood on 
another man’s head,” he remarked dryly. 


330 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


“He may mean no mischief,” I said, feeling the 
falsity of my words. “ And remember where we are 
and what we are doing.” 

“I remember,” he answered, with a grim look, 
“ that this is Arafat, the Holy Mount, where men pray 
and seek blood-revenge.” 

“ I am not going to forfeit Paradise for the sake of 
settling old feuds, Tabal,” I said with what firmness 
I could command. 

“ Thou wouldst prefer to be sent to Paradise by thy 
enemy’s dagger,” he returned meaningly. “ That is 
for thee to choose. But if that man looked at me as 
he looked at thee, my blade would find no rest till it 
had given him to Azrael.” 

“ I will make a covenant with thee, Tabal,” I said. 
“ I will stand by thee if thou wilt stand by me.” 

“ Now thou speakest like thyself,” cried Tabal, joy- 
ously. “We shall have sport; see if we have not. 
Nay, nay, be not afraid; we will talk no more cf 
blood -revenge. Thou art weary and in need of rest. 
Lie thee down. So. So. Verily, a man cannot keep 
awake for ever.” 

I lay down, but I did not sleep. The vision of that 
humped back, those blazing eyes, that malignant face, 
effectually kept off drowsiness. A dozen times dur- 
ing the night I could have risen and fled ; a dozen 
times I was on the point of joining a man who prayed 
with exceeding unction in a neighbouring tent; as 
often, too, I felt impelled to call Tabal, and rush out 
with him in quest of Abram ben Aden. If that cause 
of nightmares were removed I should, breathe more 
freely. But I did none of these things; only tossed 
and speculated myself into a fever, while waiting with 
haggard expectation for the dawn. 

It came with the beating of drums, the roar of 
artillery, and the tumult of an excited multitude. 
Rising as from the depths of a cold grey shadow, 
I joined Tabal in ablutions and prayers. These 
over we started for the summit of the Holy Mount. 
The rocky steeps were already covered with pil- 


ARAFAT AND THE CAABA-TRAPPED. 331 

grims and beggars, who jostled, fought, recrimi- 
nated, and mingled Labbaiks and petitions for alms 
in cries that made the ears ring and ache. By 
the time we reached Adam’s Place of Prayer, the 
press was a jam, and tender ribs suffered/ Many 
Hadjis fell fainting. Some were helped up, some 
trodden underfoot, where they snarled and bit like 
dogs; and not a few went direct into the hands of the 
grave-diggers. A little further on Wahhabis and 
Bedouins displa} T ed their religious zeal by contending 
with naked weapons about the spot which the Khatib 
(preacher) would by-and-by occupy with his white 
dromedary; and the host in general was distracted 
with anger and devoutness. 

Having gained the top we prayed vehemently, ac- 
cording to rule, on the spot where the Prophet used to 
stand during the performance of the rites ; then de- 
scended in a sweeping, yelling mass to the plain. 
There we spread ourselves, and took leave of our 
senses, after the approved manner of the Moslems. 

I should probably have enjoyed the varied and im- 
posing spectacle more had it not been for the painful 
and oppressive sense of Abram ben Aden’s presence. 
I did not see a dark face glowering at me, or a Bed- 
ouin charging in my direction, or a man press close to 
me without smelling murder. Sitting now in the 
peaceful security of my room the fear seems cowardly. 
But it was different then, with so many zealots ready 
to imbrue their hands in the blood of an alien and 
heretic. 

It was with unfeigned thankfulness that I got back 
to the tent, and threw myself on some rugs to compose 
my whirling mind. Tabal would have me out again 
to see the sights and seek adventures; but I stead- 
fastly refused to budge (save for the brief midday de- 
votions) till the guns announced A1 Asr, or afternoon 
prayer, from which no male pilgrim may abstain and 
keep his integrity. 

The proceedings opened promptly with a sort of 
gala-day madness, in which drums and horse-racing 


332 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


were principal incitements. Scarcely had the signal 
ceased booming among the rocks, when the Shereef’s 
procession made its appearance in the rear. F irst came 
a disorderly mob of slaves and savages on foot, on 
horses, on camels, every atom being animated by the 
single ambition of creating a riot with the greatest 
possible celerity. Then, behind his green and red 
flags, came the great man on his mule, with a green 
umbrella as large as a tent bobbing and swaying above 
his head. Another mob of slaves and savages fol- 
lowed, and hard upon its heels the Hadjis rolled like 
a huge billow, screaming, yelling, waving their arms, 
beating their breasts, throwing their ihramsover their 
heads, and otherwise proving their demented condi- 
tion. Presently we surged up the mountain-side, 
breaking like foam on its rocky face, and rending the 
heavens with our screeching. The Mahmils of Egypt 
and Damascus took their place, the Khatib mounted 
his white dromedary and made a sign for silence ; and 
like the sudden collapse of a tempest the noise ceased. 
Then in the midst of a thrilling hush, the preacher be- 
gan his three-hours’ sermon. 

It must have been very eloquent, judging by the 
profound impression it made. The congregation duly 
wept, duly shouted, duly beat its many breasts, and 
would doubtless have proceeded to tear its hair, but 
for the fact that all heads were shaved as close as razor 
could cut. I joined ostentatiously in these demonstra- 
tions, yet my thoughts were not with the preacher; 
they were on the lurking enemy who crept through the 
crowd feeling the cruel knife. I sought him at least 
as eagerly as he could seek me. On all sides I looked 
for him, first with wild rapid glances, then slowly, 
deliberately, once, twice, thrice, and thanked Heaven 
fervently that I failed to discover his evil visage. I 
found that Tabal, too, was engaged in the same quest, 
and, unlike me, was disappointed at his failure. 

“Attend to thy prayers, good Tabal,” I whispered. 

“ May the Prophet give him grace to say his while 
he hath time!” he returned significantly. 


ARAFAT AND THE CAABA— TRAPPED. 333 

Meantime the sermon went on with the most mov- 
ing exhibitions of emotion. The preacher told how 
the just should drink of the rivers of milk and incor- 
ruptible waters of Paradise, and of the oceans of wine 
and clarified honey, and eat of all kinds of delicious 
fruits in endless gardens, made delectable by foun- 
tains and shady trees, and in gorgeous pavilions lie 
on couches of silk and wrought gold, and be comforted 
by damsels having eyes like the midnight and com- 
plexions like rubies and pearls ; and we lifted up our 
voices in a storm of rejoicing. He told also how the 
wicked should have garments of fire wrapped close 
about them, and boiling water poured upon their 
heads, and salt rubbed into their gaping wounds, and 
dwell for ever amid burning winds and under the 
shade of black smoke, and eat the fruit of the cursed 
tree of A1 Zakkum,* which is as devils’ heads; and 
we howled like a thousand moonstruck kennels. And 
while we were in a paroxysm of awe and terror at the. 
fate of the lost, the preacher unexpectedly gave the 
signal that the sermon was over, and we broke, as 
breaks the dammed torrent, and swept down hill yell- 
ing like a Tartar horde in a foray. 

In the scene that ensued religion and brotherly- 
kindness had no part. With the tears of holy joy 
and repentance scarce dry on our faces we trampled 
each other, swore at each other, struck each other 
with fist or weapon as might be most convenient. 
Men roared, frantically brandishing knives and dag- 
gers ; women screamed ; children cried ; slaves lost 
their masters, and masters their slaves, and each vo- 
ciferated for each in divers tongues and with many 
unhallowed remarks; camels snapped and groaned, 
sometimes capsizing to kick their uncouth legs in the 
air and make splinters of their burdens; horses 
plunged; asses brayed; and all the while we were 
desperately tearing up tent pegs, rolling canvas, pack- 
ing goods and chattels, getting litters ready, mount- 
ing, and making off as if the devil himself were at 
* The tree of Hell. 


334 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


our heels. Perhaps, indeed, he was, for the commo- 
tion was due to our urgent desire to get to Muna with 
all speed, and stone him with seven stones apiece; 
and he may have been taking it out of us while yet 
he had a chance. 

Ranee (who for reasons easily imagined had not 
accompanied us to the sermon) was very brave, Baruk 
very obedient, Tabal very nimble and resourceful, 
and, our baggage being an inconsiderable item, we 
were among the earlier ones to start. To start — I 
ought rather to say to stagger and reel in furious 
collisions; to whirl in eddies; to be rushed protesting 
and helpless in a flying mass that gripped us on both 
sides like the jaws of a vice; to be hurled back as 
that mass recoiled from some shock in front, and 
pounded and crushed as it struggled to recover itself; 
to hear ourselves described by all the unsanctified 
epithets of all the Moslem languages dredged to their 
uttermost foulness ; to be reduced to despair twenty 
times a minute; and made to feel of just as much 
account as sand-grains in a dust-storm, and as potently 
endued with self-control as cockle-shells in a tem- 
pestuous sea. 

It was dark, too, and the din was distracting. 
Guns roared in front of us, guns roared behind us. 
Sometimes they burst at our very side, making us 
jump, and wonder what powers of destruction had 
fallen upon us; fifes squealed, kettle-drums rattled, 
and over all rose the myriad noises of man and beast 
insanely striving to make a tumult. 

At first neither the haste nor the confusion was at 
all to my distaste. The one was getting me away 
with all quickness from the place of blood-revenge; 
the other might give me the better opportunity of 
evading my enemy. Might , however, not would. 
There was the rub. A bare possibility — a faint hope 
born of a burning wish — no more; and the chance lay 
equally on the other side. What if the occasion were 
opportune for Abram ben Aden rather than for me? 
The crowd might favour either of us. To rely on it 


ARAFAT AND THE CAABA— TRAPPED. 335 

would be like putting faitli in a lottery, or trusting 
to the jungle which perhaps hides the stalking tiger. 
So, the advantage being in the balance, I kept an 
eager, apprehensive look out for him, and a hundred 
times my flesh crept and thrilled as I fancied I saw 
his fiery eyes glaring upon me out of the darkness. 
f If he spied me he delayed taking his revenge. But 
I _was convinced he pursued me, chuckling, nursing 
his vengeance, and waiting with the diabolic patience 
of the Oriental for the appropriate and dramatic 
moment. With this conviction like a live coal in my 
mind, I was swept forward by the resistless, sinister 
tide. It pursued a tumultuous course over the plain, . 
poured in a foaming torrent through the craggy pass 
of the Two Rugged Hills, overflowed Muzdalifali, 
swirling and eddying for a while about the mosque, 
gathered a mountain of pebbles for punitive purposes 
later on, and finally rolled into the basin and, with 
shattering clamours, Muna overspread the base of 
Mount Sabir. By-and-by the stars receded, the east 
quivered, first with a pale light, then with sudden 
red streamers that shot upward like trailing rockets ; 
and presently the great sun uprose, gleaming like a 
flame on white robes and gilded litters, tipping spears 
with fire, and disclosing chaos. The host drew itself 
together, with some futile efforts to smooth out the 
disorder, looked to its baggage, and having washed 
the missiles brought from Muzdalifah, religiously 
stowed them in its ihrams against the time of putting 
Satan to shame and torture. 

With the first blink of light I cast anxiously about 
for the crooked back of Abram ben Aden. Up and 
down, to and fro, I searched for that dread hump; 
now seeming to mark it, now sighing in gladness at 
finding myself mistaken, again starting at a stealthy 
rustle behind and turning fear-struck and with horri- 
ble expectations to find a Hadji merely trying to pray. 

Tabal, I found, was also engaged in looking for 
Abram ben Aden, though with sensations the reverse 
of mine. 


336 


IN THE DAY OP BATTLE. 


“The coward liideth!” he said contemptuously. 
“Ugh! why cometh he not like a man? He is not 
worth the thrust of a Persian’s spear.” * 

I refrained from expressing my ideas on the subject. 

In due time we stoned the devil in the shape of a 
pillar, placed as awkwardly as a devilish ingenuity 
could suggest. The site, indeed,, was of the fiend’s 
own choosing. There, in the remote ages, he had 
the audacity to show his evil phiz, and there, to this 
day, he is stoned with a fury and commotion that 
prove fatal to many taking part in the assault. Tabal 
and I crushed into the seething throng, cast our seven 
stones viciously, crushed out again, not without pain- 
ful compression of the ribs, were shaved, had our 
nails pared ; and then, in the midst of a roaring rab- 
ble, made desperately for Mecca. 

We reached it in the afternoon, grimy as coal- 
heavers, croaking with thirst, and weary to the point 
of fainting. To impress upon us how the righteous 
seeking Paradise must suffer, the laws of Ramadan 
forbade either eating or drinking; although (sorely 
against her will) I made the drooping and exhausted 
Ranee sip a mild cordial, affirming the authority of 
the Prophet for the compulsion. The rest of us took 
what refreshment could be had from bathing, then 
lay down with infinite yearnings of the famishing to 
wait for night and the concluding ceremonies. 

Over these I must not linger; for my pen burns 
with impatience to reach an event which is the climax 
or turning-point of this history. As soon as we had 
word that the Caaba was open, Tabal and I went off 
to perform our last vows, leaving Ranee under the 
charge of Baruk. 

Now the Caaba, as the reader knows, is the Mos- 
lem holy of holies; no heretic may set his foot there 
and live. Even on slight suspicion his blood would 
be spilt on the sacred pavement, and those who shed 

* The Arab has an invincible contempt for the Persian. To 
be called a Persian in Arabia is to be offered an unspeakable 
insult. 


ARAFAT AND THE CAABA — TRAPPED. 337 

it would count themselves many degrees nearer ever- 
lasting bliss for the deed. 

We had instant evidence of the inviolable sanctity 
of the place in the strictness of the officials who 
guarded it, their piercing looks, their searching ques- 
tions, the resolute manner in which they barred the 
way till we gave a minute and satisfactory account 
of ourselves. The thought of the falsehoods with 
which I braved that inquisition makes my old blood 
run cold. But mj T life depended on my deceit : that 
is my excuse, and the reader may judge whether it is 
a valid one. At last the inquisitors were satisfied, 
we reached the keeper standing by the door with his 
silver padlock, climbed the final step, and passed in. 

The most self-confident Moslem will not cross that 
awful threshold without shaking and trembling. 
Fancy, then, how one who was not a Moslem, and 
who just then had no self-confidence whatever, 
quaked as he glanced round the massive dungeon-like 
walls, thinking of what might happen! There was 
no window in case of emergency, no outlet save the 
door, and it was closely guarded behind us. The 
holy of holies might turn out a most effectual trap. 

I do not know how I went through my devotions, 
— gracelessly, absently, no doubt, for the tense mind 
was not upon them. I remember that there were 
curtains flaming with red and gold on the upper part 
of the walls; that we prostrated ourselves for ages 
first in one corner then in another; that there were 
startling outbursts of ecstasy; but how the prayers 
went, what we said, and how we said it, I have no 
notion. 

As we chanced to be among the first arrivals, the 
place on our entering was almost empty. But it was 
soon full. You can feel the swelling of a crowd, even 
when you cannot see it, especially if the sensibilities 
be quickened by a high nervous excitement. The 
sense of numbers became every moment stronger and 
stronger upon me, and the impulse to examine the 
worshippers overpowering. It is straitly forbidden 
22 


338 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


to lift the eyes in that inner sanctuary ; but a man 
whose life is jeopardized is apt to break laws and 
disregard instructions. Unable to resist, I peeped 
very cautiously from under the corner of my ihram ; 
and fiery currents darted through me. 

The place grew choking hot and stifling. Waves 
of humid, heated air flowed and ebbed about my face. 
It seemed there were a million people there, and that 
every eye was upon me, and, worse, was reading my 
secret. I began to perspire, and a feeling of suffoca- 
tion came into my throat and chest. I made sure I 
should faint before the ordeal was half over — faint, 
and be despatched in a swoon. Then I began to ac- 
cuse myself of madness for running such risks, and 
that did not tend to induce composure. 

We were creeping like snails on our course from 
corner to corner, when the tempter suggested that I 
might chance another surreptitious look; so, lifting 
the edge of my ihram, with extraordinary care I 
glanced out. What I saw made a sudden darkness 
fall upon me, such a darkness as would follow a 
heavy blow on the head. The place whirled. I 
clutched at Tabal, and I am sure a muffled cry escaped 
me. 

Fearful of attracting attention I thrust my face to 
the pavement to recover myself. Then, holding my 
breath and hoping against hope that my eyes had 
deceived me, I glanced out again. Merciful Heaven ! 
1 had seen aright. There, within ten feet of me, 
was the humped back of Abram ben Aden. 

I was not surprised ; I had expected him, expected 
him every minute since our meeting at Arafat, and 
there he was, and my feelings were those with which 
the doomed wretch catches sight of the executioner. 

I put my head down again, pressing my face hard 
against the pavement in a horror and dismay that are 
not to be described. There was a great humming in 
my ears; my heart leaped with a sort of racing vio- 
lence for some seconds, then stopped with an excru- 
ciating tightness of the chest, as if its cords had sud- 


ARAFAT AND THE CAABA — TRAPPED. 339 

denly contracted. The labouring breath was shut off. 
An iron grip seemed to be on my windpipe. I was 
choking, and felt that nothing- but a yell could save 
me. 

I managed to keep back the cry by stretching myself 
on the floor and groaning aloud, by dissembling my 
terror in vehement ejaculations that came back to me 
in a dead echo from the walls. Little could my fel- 
low-worshippers have guessed that in those fervid 
bursts of piety a man’s soul was crying out in the 
agony of uttermost fear. 

Tabal tugged at my ihram, and I crept on with that 
shuddering, unnerving dread of the assassin’s knife 
which turns courage to cowardice, and blanches curly 
locks in an hour. Had Abram ben Aden seen me? 
Was he waiting for his revenge quietly, confidently, 
as the serpent waits for the fluttering bird? I made 
no doubt whatever he was; that he had tracked me 
there, and was now gloating over his success. Yet I 
longed with the longing of one whose fate is in the 
balance to turn and assure myself. To turn, ay, and 
perhaps look into his very face; to feel the hot fumes 
of his breath, to see his leer of triumph. That was 
too horrible. Then another thought came into my 
head. If there was to be killing, why should I not 
strike first, and strike effectually? My whole soul 
rose surging with deadly passion at the idea. I was 
trapped. Any moment he might be upon me, and if 
he should fail others would succeed. I had to^die. 
Well, he should die also, and die first. It was un- 
fortunate that I had not a dagger; but I had a pistol 
and a good knife, and between them they would do 
my service. 

"Tabal again pulled stealthily at my ihram, wonder- 
ing what was the matter. That broke my train of 
thought, and with it my purpose. I was scared at my 
own bloodthirstiness. No, I could not on any account 
kill him. If he would let me alone I would let him 
alone. And, making this compact with myself, I 
crept on beside Tabal, surer than if I saw him, that 


340 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


Abram ben Aden was crawling close behind me. 
My head was bowed, and I durst not cast the swuftest 
glance back. But I saw the whole scene, clear and 
definite as in a mirror. I beheld myself creeping inch 
by inch round the circuit of the building; I beheld 
Abram ben Aden at my back, not too near, stopping 
as I stopped, moving as I moved, keeping directly in 
my track, letting none come between us, pretending 
to be praying, but with all his attention fixed on me, 
and holding himself ready for the moment of victory. 
I saw his black scowl change to a fiend’s gleam of joy, 
the joy which waits in secure patience, and is whetted 
by the protracted anguish of the victim. I cried 
aloud; Tabal turned astonished to find me worship- 
ping with so much zeal. He did not understand that 
I was utterly unnerved, and that if I did not give voice 
to my fear I must have gone raving mad. 

The ceremonies dragged on. Awesome sounds rose 
and sank as guilty men owned their sins and made 
piteous appeals for mercy and forgiveness. The 
Caaba was so full that w T e were packed almost immov- 
able. The air was hot and fetid; we breathed in 
gasps, and were streaming with perspiration. We 
had been eternities there, and yet there w T as much to 
be done. Could I endure to the end? 

The dense mass rocked and heaved in spasms of 
emotion. In one of these upheavals some one shoul- 
dered me roughly behind. Quivering to the marrow, 
I closed my eyes and held my breath for the thrust 
that must follow. As it did not come with the ex- 
pected celeritj^, I turned my head to look for the ag- 
gressor ; and all the terror and horror I had ever known 
or imagined were nothing to what then seized me ; for 
there, cheek by jowl with me, was Abram ben Aden. 

He was so close that I felt his palpitating sides 
against mine; his breath was like a noxious wind in 
my face, every word he uttered rang like a knell in my 
ears. His head was down almost flat upon the pave- 
ment ; his entreaties seemed afire with the blind zeal of 
the distracted penitent ; but I knew that he w r as watch- 


A SONG IN THE NIGHT. 


341 


ing me, knew that he saw every movement I made. I 
looked at him, looked at him with the steadfastness of 
fascination ; examined his hump, observed its size and 
its odd shape, and noted his wizened appearance. Sud- 
denly he turned ; our eyes met, and every pulse of my 
being was suspended. He stopped, gaping frightfully, 
in the middle of an impassioned utterance; a fierce 
exultation beamed luridly upon his gathered features; 
he forgot his prayers ; for what was his soul’s welfare 
set against the gratification of a cherished revenge? 

His jaws opened in the hideous, bloodthirsty way 
of a wild beast’s, then closed with a snap as if his teeth 
were in my throat. His eyes glowed as if a furnace 
raged behind them ; his face became a sort of dusky 
red. Then all at once his expression changed. He 
grinned as the arch-fiend might be supposed to grin 
over the accomplishment of a peculiarly gratifying 
piece of wickedness, and passed his hand down b}~ his 
side. 

I could bear no more. The irrepressible scream 
rang out, and, leaping up, I was on the backs of the 
bended worshippers, and through the door, before one 
of them could realize what was happening. As I 
sprang down to the outer floor there followed me the 
most fearful cry that Moslem lips can frame, or per- 
haps Christian ears hear, the cry of “Nazarene! 
Nazarene!” and the professors of the “holy religion” 
were on my heels with the rush of breaking waters 
and the spirit of infuriated wolves. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

A SONG IN THE NIGHT. 

The blast of fury from the Caaba seemed to catch 
me and hurl me forward. I was past the official 
guardians as if shot from the mouth of a cannon, and 
out among the pillars and porches before a hand could 
be raised to stop me. But there I had only plunged 


342 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


into the thick of the perils. In one awful glance I 
saw the circling walls, the towered and guarded 
gates, the vast, startled congregation, lifting itself 
with terrific rockings and tossings for any atrocity 
that might be in the way, and knew that I had to 
clear all these or die. 

With the instinct of the hunted fox, I began to 
dodge among the pillars and colonnades. The cry of 
“Nazarene! heretic!” escaping the bounds of narrow 
walls rose a shrill and curdling shriek on the night 
air, and the packed outer crowd, grasping the situa- 
tion, roared in responsive anger for the blood of the 
defiler. 

At that sound I cowered behind a pillar as a hare 
cowers behind a bush listening to the clamour of the 
hunters. There was a moment, a terrible moment of 
suspense and uncertainty. What were my pursuers 
doing? Had they lost me? Then I felt rather than 
saw that with one savage impulse they were surging 
in upon me. I must move or be caught and torn 
instantly. 

Gliding like a shadow among shadows, I made for 
a remote corner into which the dim light of the lamps 
did not shine. A wild yell told me I was discovered, 
and I sprang forward, knocking several men down 
as it seemed at a touch. 

Getting into deeper shade I paused again, for the 
tenth part of a second, to take reckonings and catch 
my breath. I was near the eastern side, in an angle 
of the wall, and within thirty paces of a gate. Only 
thirty paces; yet how was that brief distance to be 
traversed? A man may perish in the course of thirty 
paces; in thirty paces a frenzied crowd may seize 
him and tear him limb from limb. 

My pursuers wavered once more, as if doubtful of 
my position. But it was only for a second. The 
next, with howls that made the hair stand straight 
up on my head, they charged inward, encircling me 
like a coil. 

I felt that I was lost ; that no power on earth could 


A SONG IN THE NIGHT. 


343 


prolong my life another minute. Yet even in the 
face of death I was impelled to make an effort to save 
myself. The readiest plan would be to make for the 
gate of which I have spoken ; but between me and it 
—between me and any of the gates, was the solid 
mob with shooting fire in its eyes and murderous 
steel in its hands. 

Perhaps it would be best to throw myself on the 
ruthless blades, and have the agony over. Perhaps; 
but I did not adopt that course, because, with all its 
miseries, my life was unspeakably dear to me. 

Darting back the way I had come, I made a feint 
of crossing the square to the western side. The mob 
heaved, turned, and rushed like a billow to overwhelm 
me. Watching till I found the cumbrous mass 
properly in motion, I doubled like a flash among the 
colonnades and along the wall, with just sufficient 
presence of mind to tear off the ihram, which might 
betray me by its whiteness. Its momentum was such 
that the crowd could not swing around swiftly. Now 
was the moment for my attempt, now, or never. 

Without waiting to calculate the chances, without 
waiting for anything but a single, involuntary glance 
at my pursuers, I dashed into the open. The com- 
motion had drawn the guards from their post, a cir- 
cumstance which I discovered with an electric thrill 
and tingle of joy. But they were free on the edge of 
the crowd, and, detecting me and my purpose, 
bounded with howls of fury for the gate. 

The speed of that race is not to be conceived, save 
by those who have made a similar dash for their 
lives. If I failed by so much as half a foot, or half a 
second, I was a dead man. Twenty seconds would 
decide the issue of life and death, twenty beating, 
awful seconds. I saw nothing but that slit in the 
wall, and the faint shadows of two towers; but I felt 
the rush of the maddened multitude, felt and sped 
as one having wings. 

Within ten feet of the gate the corner of my eye 
caught a flying skirt and the flash of steel. The man 


344 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


and I were at the fateful passage together. He 
leaped at me with the long spring of a tiger, and I 
took his dagger in my left arm, just below the elbow. 
He went down, or rather was hurled into the arms of 
a comrade, whose blow he served to ward off. A 
third struck at me, grazing my ribs ; but before he 
or another could strike again I had bounded through 
the gate and was in the street. 

Outside, another crowd waited for me; though, 
luckily, it was still in the questioning stage of excite- 
ment, and had not gathered its energies for action. 
But the shouting of the fiends, that were now pouring 
through the gate, and the sight of a naked man ply- 
ing his feet for dear life, gave it the enlightenment 
and the incentive it needed, and with peals of rage it 
joined in the chase, or, more correctly, surrounded 
me. 

How I escaped instant death remains to this day 
a miracle to myself. In the space of one minute I 
seemed to be entangled a thousand times. Hands 
with claws like an eagle’s clutched at me, fists struck 
me, feet tripped me, daggers pierced me; I was 
wounded, bleeding, and breathless, but, by the mercy 
of God, I was able to get on somehow, ducking, 
dodging, doubling, striking, leaping, now darting 
under the gleaming steel, now bounding over it, in a 
word, trying every trick of the pressed fugitive; and 
it seemed that all Mecca, nay, the whole Moslem 
world, surged and bellowed for my blood. 

I have mentioned that Mecca lacks street-lamps. 
That fact was my salvation. The darkness enabled 
me first to dodge the crowd and then to distance it. 
Once in the open street I was more than a match 
even for Arabs whose fleetness of foot was increased 
by a furious desire to kill. Here and there I encoun- 
tered groups; but to them I could be no more than a 
flying apparition, and, indeed, some of them made 
way for me with symptoms of sudden fear. Others, 
however, of hardier courage or readier wit, hearing 
the clamour and guessing that I was the cause and 


A SONG IN THE NIGHT. 


345 


object of it, took the chance to strike at me as I flew; 
but if they hit I did not feel the blows. 

Venturing by-and-by to stop and hearken, I realized 
that my pursuers had lost me and were scattering like 
beaters when the game gets into cover. Supposing a 
damned soul were to escape and to pause for half a 
moment on the outer circle of hell in fear, exhaustion, 
and a sort of trembling triumph, its feelings would be 
what mine were then. I was not safe. Infuriated 
demons were on my track; perils encompassed me 
like a flood. Yet I had escaped — escaped where the 
chances against me were a million, ay ten million to 
one. I was blowing like a cracked bellows, my limbs 
shook and bent as if bones and muscles had been 
beaten limp and useless, and a myriad lights were 
dancing in my eyes. But for one delirious second I 
swelled and thrilled with a tumult of exultation. 
Then like a flash it was gone, and I was once more 
the terrified and scudding fugitive. 

I ran mechanically on — on through the darkness, 
past houses, past tents, past startled groups of men, 
neighing horses and grunting camels — ever on, with 
the reverberating yells of the baffled fanatics, like a 
sort of devil’s music, in my ears. A pack of raven- 
ous dogs got on my scent, and snapped and barked 
at my heels. Lest they should give my enemies the 
clue I charged in among the yelping brutes, as an 
unarmed man driven desperate might charge among 
besieging wolves, and the act was so utterly incom- 
prehensible that they slunk away with affrighted 
whines. 

I ran on again at my topmost speed, but my legs 
were getting weak and shaky, and stumbling pres- 
ently over a stone or some other obstacle, I fell on my 
face almost blind and senseless. My head seemed 
empty; my sides were breaking. Putting down my 
hands to support them, I discovered with dismay that 
I was naked. Then I remembered how the ihram 
had been torn off as an impediment. 

The sense of nakedness, of utter prostration and 


346 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


helplessness stripped me of the last remnant of hope 
and courage. I had no more heart for effort; and I 
dare say I wished to die there and then. Let no man 
imagine he knows what desolation is till he has 
skulked and lain on the savage unsympathetic earth 
like a wounded beast, without a beast’s covering or 
resource. One who is clothed has in his direst mis- 
ery some feeling of human protection and brother- 
hood; while a rag sticks to his wretched back there 
still remains a kind of bond or tie between him and 
his fellow-men. It is not till he lies in the dust naked 
as he came into the world, afraid of everything that 
breathes and that does not breathe, that he is 
altogether desolate and abandoned. 

That was my state, and it was a state to die in. 
Yet I have noticed that the idea of dying comes easi- 
est to those whom death does not immediately men- 
ace. Presently I found myself trying to continue 
my flight. But the attempt failed. My legs refused 
their office; a ton- weight seemed *fco be attached to 
each foot. When I tried to rise I fell to my knees, 
collapsing inward upon myself in a kind of coil as if 
seized with paralysis. And then indeed I thought 
I was lost, forsaken of God, hated and hunted of 
man. Perhaps some self-pitying tears came, but not 
many ; fewer probably than if I had been better able 
to take care of myself. 

Luckily I was out of the town and among some 
mean tents that were not of sufficient value even to 
be guarded. Gathering myself together, presently I 
managed to crawl into the blackness of darkness be- 
hind one of them, and there lay with my ear to the 
ground, listening. The hoarse tumult still swelled 
and raged ; and several times I was convinced my 
pursuers were surrounding and must inevitably find 
me. But after a while the shouting fell to a rum- 
bling growl, as of wild beasts returning baffled from 
the chase, and by-and-by ceased. The fanatics had 
gone back to their prayers confident that the morning 
light would bring them satisfaction. Nor had I any 


A SONG IN THE NIGHT. 


347 


doubt whatever that it would. The idea of capturing 
a horse, mounting and riding for the desert occurred 
to me; but I had not strength for the enterprise. So 
I lay there like one stricken of the palsy, hearkening 
to the bodeful noises, franticall}" eager to preserve my 
life, and feeling that it was forfeit as surely as if 
my enemies held me bound hand and foot. 

A chill wind blew, a wind that cut and pierced the 
nude flesh as with innumerable sharp points, and I 
shivered and chattered. Such cold makes one move 
if any life or energy be left. I crept to the nearest 
tent, and drawing aside the curtain, perhaps half an 
inch, peeped stealthily in. I saw no one. Making 
a larger opening I took a longer look. A ragged, 
battered cloak of camel’s hair lay spread just within 
the entrance. My heart beat with a thievish excite- 
ment; the blood leaped to my head. Could I reach 
that cloak? Gently and quietly, very gently and 
quietly I drew the curtain a little further aside, 
crouching behind it to keep out of view should any 
one be inside, and reached with my right hand for 
the edge of the cloak. I caught it as it seemed with 
Angers of fire, and pulled with the breathless caution 
of a thief. It came with me. The experiment was 
not one to be prolonged beyond the briefest limit 
possible. I clutched the cloak blindly, and getting 
strength from the excitement, was round the corner 
into the darkness before you could have counted 
three. 

When I had run perhaps a hundred yards I stopped 
quivering and panting to listen. There was no 
alarm; the theft had not been detected. Throwing 
the cloak about me, and falling on all fours, I crept 
to the rear of some of the smaller tents, and finding 
a rock two or three feet high lay down on the lee side 
of it. But the wind found the holes in my meagre 
covering; and again I chattered and shivered. A 
few stars were in the sky, twinkling cold and keen, 
and though there was no moon, I could see the drift- 
ing clouds. Somehow they had an awesome, unnat- 


348 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


ural look in the dusky light, and suggested evil 
spirits crowding to some dire revel. 

Rising in a staggering fashion, and wrapping my 
cloak closer about me, I wandered on among the tents. 
There were people about, and m3 7 presence did not 
attract attention. Emboldened by this I went on, 
gradually getting among larger tents and pavilions of 
grandees. Suddenly a man challenged me. Quick 
as thought I was into the darkness and flat on my 
face. He did not pursue; yet I was afraid, to move. 
And as I la} r there the whole horrible scene I had just 
gone through repeated itself before me. I saw the 
crowded Caaba; I saw Abram ben Aden crawling 
close beside me, his eyes furtively watching me, his 
face livid with hatred and triumph ; I saw my own 
fearful leap for life, and heard the cry of “ Hazarene ! 
Nazarene !” with a fresh shuddering and freezing of 
the marrow. Again I thought of Tabal, wondering 
whether he, too, was to be counted my enemy. Then, 
by another turn of the mental kaleidoscope, I saw the 
dogs, the crowd at the gate, the man whose dagger 
had left a hole in m3’ arm. It was all as vivid and 
as harrowing as realit3 7 . 

And as I was thus thinking and creeping together 
and shuddering, I heard a sound that brought every 
drop of blood in m3 7 veins to a sudden stand with a 
new and different emotion. Some one was singing ; 
that was not strange. But it was strange to incre- 
dulit3’, to the point indeed of making me doubt my 
own sanit3 T , that the air should be one of home and 
bo3’hood. My brain must be giving wa3 7 . I got to 
m3’ feet, listening with ever3’ pulse of m3 7 bod3 7 . The 
singing was interrupted with some bars of whistling. 
Then it began again, and loud and clear and unmis- 
takable there rang out the words of a Scottish ballad. 

“Lock the door, Lariston, lion of Liddesdale, 

Lock the door, Lariston, Louther comes on ; 

The Armstrongs are flying, 

The widows are crying, 

The Castletoun’s burning and Oliver’s gone. 


A SONG IN THE NIGHT. 


349 


“Lock the door, Lariston, high on the weather gleam, 

See how the Saxon plumes bob on the sky ; 

Yeoman and carbineer, 

Bilman and halberdier, 

Fierce is the foray, and far is the cry. 

“Bewcastle brandishes high his broad scimitar, 

Ridley is riding his fleet-footed grey ; 

Hidley and Howard there, 

Wandell and Windermere ; 

Lock the door, Lariston, hold them at bay. 

“Why dost thou smile, noble Elliott of Lariston? 

Why does the joy-candle gleam in thine eye? 

Thou bold border ranger, 

Beware of thy danger, 

Thy foes are relentless, determined, and nigh.” 

I stood as if fixed to the ground ; then some one 
seemed to release me, and I ran forward. I had not 
gone fifty paces when the curtain of one of the largest 
and most splendid tents swung back, and a man 
stepped out. By the light of the new-risen moon I 
saw that he was tall, straight as a rush, and dressed 
in the first fashion of a sheik. At sight of him I 
stopped instinctively, meaning to bolt. But a second 
look kept me there, gazing in amazement and a kind 
of awe. Were my eyes playing me tricks? Was 
my troubled brain raising spectres and delusions? I 
was not fit to decide; so in the tension I said uncon- 
sciously and aloud, “ The man on the black horse, or 
his ghost.” 

At that he turned towards me, and his eyes drew 
me as the magnet draws the steel. I rushed forward, 
crying, “ Donald Gordon ! Donald Gordon !” to fall 
exhausted and giddy at his feet. 

He looked down with a keen, questioning, incredu- 
lous face, and said something. W^hat it was I did 
not hear; for there was the roar of a raving multi- 
tude in my ears. All at once it died away, and I 
was ducking from dancing lights and flying meteors. 
The man, the tent, the moon, the stars, the clouds 
reeled and gyrated in a drunken jumble, and I fancied 


350 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


the end of the world, for which I appeared to have 
been waiting, had come at last. 

Presently I found myself inside the tent with a 
glass of stimulants at my lips, and a stinging sensa- 
tion in my nostrils. The dark, keen, questioning 
face still bent above me. 

“Aren’t you the man on the black horse?” I asked 
in a quick, piping voice, while the surroundings 
showed a disposition to go off again in a drunken 
whirl. By a mighty effort I restrained and steadied 
them, dimly angry at their want of stability and 
propriety. “I am from the Elms,” I gasped, “from 
Sir Thomas Gordon and Miss Isabel,” and the 
drunken, disgraceful tent heaved and tumbled in 
spite of me. 

A burning torrent went down my throat and I 
winked as if for a wager. Then I began to sneeze 
as if I had taken an enormous pinch of snuff. The 
drunken tent was making an egregious fool of me at 
the very moment when I particularly wished to be 
sedate and self-possessed. 

By-and-by the sneezing stopped, the tent stood 
firmly and decently on its poles, and I looked once 
more into the dark, keen face. “ My name is Angus 
Glenrae,” I explained hastily — “Glenrae of Glenrae, 
you know.” I laughed under an uncontrollable im- 
pulse, laughed as one who has made the jest of a 
century. I caught the black eye above, and the 
laugh changed to a wild tremor of alarm. “As sure 
as death I am telling the truth,” I protested, under a 
burning impression that I was on trial for my life, j 

“ Hysteria,” said my companion, speaking the first 
intelligible word. My fear gave place to merriment 
again. 

“Your grandmother!” I retorted. “Do you think 
I’m a moonstruck girl?” 

He bent low, trying to soothe me, and I heard him 
say to himself, “A bad case, poor fellow.” 

But I would have none of his maudlin compassion. 
“Maybe you think I’m daft,” I cried, “but I’ll soon 


A SONG IN THE NIGHT. 


351 


show you.” And I believe I proceeded by every 
means in my power to demonstrate my complete 
insanity. 

My strong point seemed to be that I was Angus 
Glenrae, and no other, and this declaration, fit, as I 
thought, to carry conviction to a whole asylum board, 
was repeated with rising emphasis a round score of 
times. 

“ Yes, yes,” said my companion ; “ Angus Glenrae. 
Your word is law on the point. Take a drop more, 
Angus, my man.” 

I took a drop more, I took many drops ; I sneezed 
and gasped till I shed tears like a whipped child, and 
by means of these interesting processes I got partial 
possession of myself again. As soon as m3’ returning 
wits enabled me, I made haste to put the one question 
to which I desired an answer. 

“Aren’t you Donald Gordon?” I asked; “tell me 
that before you say a word about anything else.” 

He opened his eyes slightly, as in mild astonish- 
ment. 

“ Well, that’s what they used to call me once upon 
a time,” he answered lightly. 

“ You’ll never have heard of the Glenraes?” I said. 

“ No, Angus, my man, never, though I doubt not 
they are great people,” and I thought he cast a look 
over my raiment. 

“ Nor clapped eyes on one of them?” I said. 

“Never, till this minute; and, to tell the truth, it 
puzzles me to make out how I come to have that hon- 
our and pleasure now.” 

“ Man,” I cried, staggering to my feet and gripping 
his hand— “man, I have come all the way from Scot- 
land for you !” 

He gazed in open incredulity, as well he might. 

“And what is more,” I went on pantingly, “you 
did your best to kill me once, and, faith, you very 
nearly succeeded.” 

“ I?” he said with growing amazement. 

“ Just you,” I replied. “ When you were finishing 


353 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


off Amood Sinn you were as near as an ace of putting 
an end to me.” 

“This is past belief,” he exclaimed. “Are you 
reciting me a page from the ‘Arabian Nights’?” 

“Judge for yourself,” I answered. “I saw you 
cut Koor Ali in two ; I saw you slash off Abou Ku- 
ram’s sword-arm. I shouted to you, and you never 
let on.” 

“God alive, man, were you in that battle?” he 
cried, gripping my hand as I had gripped his. 

“ Yes, and it wasn’t your fault, or the fault of them 
that were with you, that I got out of it.” 

“ I never heard anything like this. You are quite 
sure we are not both dreaming? Have you anything 
to prog me? Upon my word, I never heard a tale 
half so astounding.” 

“ I found the experiences much more astounding 
than I find the story of them,” I said, laughing. “I 
should not like to go through that battle again.” 

“ I dare say not, I dare say not. The puzzle is how 
the devil you got out of it. It was a fearful slaugh • 
ter, a fearful slaughter ; and I have seen some blood 
shed.” 

“ So fearful that they thought you the arch-fiend 
himself.” 

He broke into explosive laughter. 

“So I heard,” he said, “so I heard, and they did 
not think it without cause.” 

“ The fame of your swordsmanship promises to be 
as popular as the Mohammedan religion. They de- 
clare there never was anything like it seen in Arabia.” 

“Which is not saying much,” he rejoined. 
“Among the blind the one-eyed man is king.” 

“ The cutting down of Koor Ali and Abou Kuram 
was scarcely the work of a novice,” I ventured. 

“ Ah, poor Koor Ali !” he said musingly. “ The 
old cut seven of the British dragoon did for him. 
That little trick has still to be learned in Arabia. 
They were both good men; Abou Kuram was a capi- 
tal fellow. My heart would have been blither to 


A SONG IN THE NIGHT. 


353 


drink a cup of wine with him than to fight him. 
But war is war; those who follow it are not always 
free to choose. I read in his eye that one of us had 
to go down. I think it was natural on my part to 
prefer that he should go. I wish I had got a little 
play with Amood Sinn; but his excessive modesty 
kept him in the background. But we wander. How 
are my respected father and my lovely sister?” 

I answered that they were well. 

“ Then that is sufficient now. By-and-by we shall 
hear all about them. You have a story, I know, but 
it will keep. Meanwhile we must look to yourself. 
I noticed that the pious Moslems have been pricking 
you with their steel. May I look at the hurt? A 
mere flesh wound, lam glad to see,” he said, examin- 
ing my arm. “ A little care will set it all right. We 
will have it washed and bound. Then 3 r ou need food, 
you need rest, and, to say the truth,” glancing over 
me, “ a scion of the illustrious house of Glenrae might 
appear in fitter dress. We will see if more becoming 
duds cannot be found.” 

I cast my eyes downward in some confusion, and 
there came back to me a swift recollection of the 
scenes of the night. I told Donald of them by way 
of accounting for my raggedness. 

He whistled meaningly. 

“That howling pack of devils was after you,” he 
said. “You were caught in the Caaba, and escaped 
and got through that tempest of hell outside. My 
friend, that was a more wonderful, a much more 
wonderful feat than any of mine. Now we have the 
reason for the shaken nerves. Well, we must be 
careful. Men who are crazy with religion are ugly 
customers to deal with ; and, to be quite candid with 
you, I have no taste for a brawl under present cir- 
cumstances. There, there, you must not get excited. 
The whole thing is as easy as slashing off a Moslem 
warrior’s head if you just keep quiet and follow my 
counsel.” 

I said that I was entirely in his hands. 

23 


354 IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 

“ That is right. Well, you must first eat, then you 
must sleep. No brain fever here, Glenrae, if it can 
be helped. I believe the time of fasting is over; 
anyway it is over for you, unless you desire an im- 
mediate transfer to Paradise; and on the whole, it 
might be well to postpone that happy event. Where 
art thou, Yasir bin Akbah?” he called in Arabic. 

Instantly a curtain was drawn aside at the rear, 
and a servant came forward bowing low. 

“My lord calleth,” he murmured. 

“Set food for the stranger,” said Donald. “Then 
place cushions and robes that he may sleep. And 
make haste as thou valuest thy head.” 

“It shall be done as my lord desireth,” answered 
the man, bowing again and withdrawing. 

“I will get the clothes myself,” said Donald. 
“ These heathen must not know too much. That 
fellow was chuckling last night because a Nazarene 
had been caught; so we must be circumspect.” 

The refection was of the kind with which the fam- 
ished grandee regales himself when Ramadan is out, 
and he is permitted to return to his flesh-pots. There 
was meat in the shape of broiled fowl, there were 
delicious fruits, and there was wine in abundance. 
Having eaten, wisely, not too well, I lay down for 
the first time for I could not remember how long, in 
divine peace and security, and with a long deep sigh 
that was perhaps half a sob, dropped off into a dream- 
less sleep. 

I awoke some fourteen hours later, refreshed and 
calm, but rather weak and under a wondrous sense 
of chastening. Donald was at hand. 

“You are a champion sleeper, Glenrae,” he re- 
marked, smiling. “Well, well, better a long nap 
than a turned head; I think the chances of brain 
fever are past.” Then, as I was dressing, “Your 
friends have been looking for you, and I am sworn 
to kill you at sight. Let me inquire if you are ready 
to meet your fate. I should be loath to send a coun- 
tryman to his doom unprepared. I can see you had 


A SONG IN THE NIGHT. 


355 


a tight squeeze for it last night. Now, now, a 
prince’s turban, my friend, ought not to be askew, 
and you are no hand at tying a sash. I am rather 
particular in this matter. But perhaps you are not 
aware that you are no longer an Arab, but an Indian 
prince with a taint of English blood in your veins. 
Your fair face makes that little precaution necessary.” 

“ A prince !” I repeated, thinking he jested. 

“ Even so. I think it would be hazardous to be an 
emperor. As to title, Altmish Jehan will do as 
well as another, and concerning your territory we 
need not be too definite. There, I think you are 
complete. Your Serene Highness makes a brave ap- 
pearance,” he said, bowing profoundly. 

“ If you must deck me out gorgeously you need not 
mock me,” I said. 

“ Your Serene Highness must take your servant’s 
obeisance as a matter of course. And while in Mecca 
your Serene Highness will not forget to talk Arabic, 
of which, as I learned during your sleep, your Serene 
Highness is master. It will be a compliment to your 
servant’s august patron, Yumen Yusel. He has 
heard of yon, Glenrae, and is curious to see you. 
The old rascal’s in the next tent valorously wrestling 
for a passport to Heaven. If he succeeds the rest of 
us need not despair.” 

“You are complimentary to your friends,” I 
laughed. 

“ Are you so much in love with Arab ways that the 
words hurt or surprise you?” he asked. “My dear 
Glenrae, it would have been an incalculable saving 
of trouble to mankind if the neck of the gentle Ish- 
mael had been broken or ever he had a chance of 
becoming the progenitor of these zealous compatriots 
of the Prophet. You wonder why I, who pretend to 
retain some shreds of Christian decency, should have 
mixed myself up with the unhallowed crew. Well, 
that is a tale within a tale, which you may hear later 
on. Meanwhile our policy is to look to ourselves. 
These friends of ours have an itch for cutting throats. 


356 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


Don’t open your eyes so wide; it’s a case of diamond 
cut diamond. Against a rogue set a rogue.” 

I bowed in assent. 

“In point of iniquity,” he went on lightly, “these 
holy pilgrims stand to each other in degrees of com- 
parison like adjectives — positive, comparative, super- 
lative. Isn’t that the order? Only that, unlike 
adjectives, their degrees are hard to discover. You 
imagine you are dealing with the positive, and quite 
unexpectedly it turns out to be the superlative. 
That’s the trouble.” 

“You use free language,” I remarked. 

“Do I? Well, it’s a novelty in this land of soft 
words and deadlj" chicane, and to me an ineffable re- 
lief. I have had to keep dangerous sentiments bot- 
tled up till I’m in peril of exploding. You fulfil the 
beneficent function of a safety-valve.” 

When I had served in this needful capacity, and 
relieved my companion’s mind of its explosive ele- 
ments, we reverted to my own story, which I briefly 
related. Donald listened as if he were all ears, fre- 
quently interrupting me with remarks and ejacula- 
tions of surprise. To the part concerning Sir Thomas 
and Isabel he paid the closest attention, inquiring 
with disconcerting eagerness about his sister. 

“She will be quite a fine lady now,” he observed, 
as I fancied with a meaning look at me. 

I answered, with a hot face, that there was not her 
peer in all broad Scotland. 

“You are a judge, no doubt,” he rejoined, with a 
shrewd twinkle. “ I notice the sun has not yet 
spoiled your complexion. That's a very pretty colour 
— no explanations, please; it’s just a trick of the 
young blood. I’ll warrant she’s as good as she’s 
bonnie.” 

“ Better!” I cried, feeling myself forced to a decla- 
ration. “ A great deal better — if that is possible.” 

“The authority is unimpeachable, I am sure,” he 
said, bowing. “Let us proceed.” And I was not 
slow to adopt the suggestion. 


A SONG IN THE NIGHT. 


357 


With the description of my search for himself in 
Bombay, Donald was vastly entertained, laughing 
long and loud over the discomfiture of those who had 
played the detective. 

“ Ay, I jouked them there !” he cried. “ It was a 
case of saving myself from my friends. I found 
them bent on thwarting me in my little projects and 
ambitions; so at a crucial turn I took counsel of no 
one but myself, a fact to which you owe all your 
trouble, and I owe this happy meeting in Mecca.” 

At the description of Abram ben Aden’s villainies 
his eyes flamed. 

“ You should have finished him, Glenrae, when you 
had the chance,” he said, with just sufficient warmth 
to indicate the fierce spirit within. “It is always a 
mistake to let a viper escape. Now he’s looking for 
you ; and last night’s doings are evidence of his 
power. My friend, he is a burning match in a 
magazine of gunpowder ; and you are perched on the 
top.” 

The old feeling of dread seized me, so that I trem- 
bled. Donald must have seen my fear, for he made 
haste to assure me, saying that with my disguise, 
and the patronage on which I might now count, there 
was small risk of detection ; and by degrees my con- 
fidence and courage returned. 

I said nothing of Ranee, having reasons of my own 
for keeping silent regarding her. But when pres- 
ent!}’ Donald proposed to present me to Yumen 
Yusel, I begged him, with an agitation which I could 
not entirely conceal, to defer the honour to a later 
hour. 

“The sun will be down in a little while,” I said. 

“ The fact is undeniable,” he returned. “ You seem 
moved over the matter.” 

“ Promise to stay here half an hour for me,” I said 
with a rising excitement. 

“You grow mysterious, my friend. I beg of you 
to remember that mysteries are dangerous things in 
Arabia ; doubly dangerous in the Holy City !” 


358 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


“ I will risk the danger, and you must abide the 
mystery. Will you stay here alone, quite alone?” 

“ Is it to be an experiment in magic?” 

“You shall see,” I answered, getting more and 
more excited. “Will you wait; and alone, quite 
alone?” 

“ You do not forget, of course, that there is a price 
on your head?” he returned quietly. “And you are 
quite sure you know what you are doing?” 

I must have flushed at this, for he added immedi- 
ately, “Well, well, that is not precisely the thing to 
say to one who has done and endured so much. Only 
you will be prompt. I can bear anything but 
waiting.” 

That was enough. The next instant I was out of 
the tent like an arrow, and speeding breathlessly to 
Ranee’s quarters. There I found Tabal temporarily 
on guard in place of Baruk. At sight of me he cried 
out in a kind of fright, then fell to embracing me 
with a vehemence more embarrassing than enjoyable. 

“I mourned thee as dead,” he panted, “and lo! 
here thou art, richly arrayed and prosperous.” 

“Heaven is very good to me, Tabal,” I replied, 
gently staving him off. “ There is a marvellous tale 
to tell thee, but not now.” And breaking from his 
embrace, I bounced in upon Ranee. 

She, too, was startled ; first because like Tabal she 
had thought me dead, and then because she feared I 
was mad. 

“Something is wrong,” she said in a voice of awe 
and anxiety. 

“Nothing is wrong, child,” I rejoined boisterously, 
for I could not contain myself. “ Everything is glori- 
ously right, as thou wilt own ere thou art many min- 
utes older. There was one who — who fought against 
Amood Sinn. He was of my people, was he not?” 

The amazed girl answered in the affirmative. 

“ And he was a friend of thine?” 

“Yea, the closest friend,” she said. 

“Lower thy veil, Ranee, and come with me as 


A SONG IN THE NIGHT. 


359 


fast as thy pretty feet can carry thee, asking no 
questions.” 

“ I may trust thee?” 

“ If not thou maj'est kill me. Make haste, Ranee. 
Make haste. The sun is going down.” 

I took her hand, and we flew through the bustling 
streets, she running by my side like a wondering 
child, and Tabal trotting at our heels in mute aston- 
ishment; for he must needs accompany us. There 
were many irreverent criticisms as we sped, but 
luckily no interference. 

“Put on thy happiest look, Ranee,” I said, in wild 
glee. “ Be as the rose in loveliness.” 

“ How can I?” she asked with just a touch of petu- 
lance ; for she had a woman’s regard for appearances. 
“ Thou takest the breath out of me.” 

“In two minutes thou wilt bless me for doing it,” 
I said. 

“ Perchance. Yet I would thou lmdst told me what 
thou art doing with me,” she replied. 

“ It will be sweeter to find out for thyself. W e are 
loitering, Ranee. Let us make haste.” 

“I was not bred a runner,” said Ranee. Yet she 
ran faster. 

At last we reached Donald’s tent and paused before 
the curtained entrance. 

“Thou wilt enter as I draw the curtain,” I whis- 
pered. 

“ There be strange men within,” she rejoined fear- 
fully; “ I may not do it.” 

“ Never was thy heart half so joyous as it will be 
when thou art inside,” I said. And being too impa- 
tient for further speech, I thrust aside the curtain 
and handed the trembling Ranee in. Donald, whose 
back was towards the door, turned quickly. Their 
eyes met, started as at a vision of ghosts, then with 
a simultaneous cry of astonishment and gladness the 
two were in each other’s arms. 

“So, so. I thought as much,” I remarked to my- 
self, and hastily dropping the curtain 1 ran out to 


360 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


Tabal, and threw myself on the ground to rock in 
glee. 

After a while Donald appeared. 

“Glenrae, Glenrae!” he called; and, as I did not 
immediately respond out of the darkness that had 
fallen, “ where is that devil Glenrae? Angus, man, 
come here quick; we want you.” 

I rose and went forward chuckling and shaking. 

“ This is a day of surprises,” he cried, grasping my 
hand, “most astonishing surprises. Surely the un- 
expected never happened in such a way before.” 

He was about to push me in when his eye fell on 
Tabal. 

“Who is this?” he demanded quickly, and there 
was a sharp ring of suspicion in his voice. 

“ A tried friend,” I answered. “ She who is within 
will tell you so.” 

Instantly his tone changed, and he saluted Tabal 
with fastidious cordiality. 

“ Marhaba ! marhaba !” he said graciously. “ Thou 
art surely welcome. Deign to enter.” 

Inside we found Ranee pacing to and fro in a 
tumult of joy. On seeing us she ran first to me and 
then to Donald, clasping her jewelled hands, and 
laughing and crying in the same breath as she tried 
to express her gladness. 

Presently Donald took her hand as deferentially as 
if she were an empress, and turning to Tabal and me, 
made a little speech. “There was once a king of 
England,” he said, “who when anything extraordi- 
nary happened to his friends always asked, ‘Who is 
the woman?’ Here, I think, is the cause of all the 
disasters that have befallen Amood Sinn and his 
allies. They parted us on our way hither, and I 
vowed vengeance and took it. I saw his palace 
burnt, though to you fell the honour of rescuing 
Ranee. I am j r our slave for ever for the service. 
How and why we were separated is too long a tale to 
tell now. Some other time you shall hear it. The 
business of the moment is, What can I do for you? 


A SONG IN THE NIGHT. 


361 


Name something, Glenrae; whatever you ask it shall 
be done, if man can do it.” 

“1 take you at your word,” I answered promptly. 
“ This is an hour of triumph and happiness to me no 
less than to you. I left Scotland to find you, and I 
have succeeded. Here we are face to face after 
adventures and experiences that are little short of 
miraculous. I have but one request; you will not 
deny- it me.” 

“ My hand that I won’t if I have power to grant it.” 

“ Your power is absolute. I ask that you will come 
back to Scotland with me.” 

He paused a moment as if in disappointment. 

“Ah!” he said, “you have taken me in my weak- 
est place. Is there nothing else you could ask?” 

“ I took you at your word,” I answered. “ It is for 
you to say whether you will break it. ” 

He stepped forward swiftly, and seized my hand 
with an iron grip. 

“ Donald Gordon has done many things that he 
ought to have left undone,” he said, with a quiver in 
his voice. “ But there is one thing he has yet to do; 
he has yet to break his word. That has always been 
better than his bond. I and my wife will go with 
you to Scotland as soon as some necessary affairs are 
attended to here. I never intended to set foot in the 
old country again. But Heaven has its own ways of 
frustrating the designs of men. I am happ} r enough 
to go anywhere or do anything.” 

“ I wish I could fly to the Elms,” I cried. 

“We’ll sail, Glenrae, we’ll sail,” he laughed. 
“That will be speedy enough.” 

It was no easy ordeal to get through the congratu- 
lations and rejoicings which followed, and come to 
business. But at last, when we had in our several 
ways expressed our gladness and our gratitude to 
Providence for this happy and marvellous meeting — 
Ranee by weeping one moment as if her heart were 
breaking, and laughing the next as if life were an 
endless comic play, so that her face was the very 


362 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


type of an April day, with sunshine and shower 
alternating; I as one who has been storing his 
emotion for a supreme moment, and when the time 
comes goes off in a whirl and knows not what hap- 
pens; Donald as the strong man who succeeds but 
indifferently in suppressing the ebullient boy; and 
Tabal as one who but vaguely understands the scene 
in which he takes part — when at length the commo- 
tion of joy subsided, we descended from the clouds to 
lay plans and discuss my position. 

Then came Tabal’s turn to show excitement. At 
the first mention of my flight from the Caaba his eye 
gleamed with a sudden fiery rapture. When Abram 
ben Aden was named he sprang to his feet with a 
murderous gesture; but recollecting himself he sat 
down again, with clenched lips and his hand on the 
hilt of his sword. It was not till Donald asked him 
casually if he had seen anything of my enemy that 
he spoke. 

“I have seen him,” he answered quietly, } T et with 
passionate force. 

“Perchance thou knowest where he is now,” said 
Donald. 

Tabal gave a queer look. 

“He may be still praying,” he rejoined indiffer- 
ently, “or he may be drinking clarified honey with 
the Prophet.” 

My head was not clear enough to discern any 
special significance in these words; but Donald must 
have suspected something, for he asked Tabal point- 
blank what had become of Abram ben Aden. 

“Am I his keeper?” he responded with the faintest 
of chuckles. “ Wherefore should I burden myself 
with his welfare? Yet I chance to know a thing.” 

“And it is?” 

“ That if he be not happy now his chances are gone 
for ever.” 

Donald whistled, and cast a meaning look at me. 

“ Your friend will do ? ” he remarked in a kind of 

aside, 


A SONG IN THE NIGHT. 


363 


“ Tabal, Tabal, what is this?” I cried, getting a 
sudden light on the matter. “ What hast thou done?” 

“Am I bound to answer thee?” said Tabal, in his 
sauciest manner. “ Who made thee ruler over me?” 

“Tell me what thou hast done, Tabal,” I pleaded; 
for a great fear had come back upon me, a shudder- 
ing fear of blood. 

“No more than I would have thee do for me if I 
were in the strait in which thou wert. Since thou 
art my judge I will answer in a word. I followed 
him when he followed thee, close and friendly at his 
heels; — it was a race to go far to see. He fell with 
his hand to his back. What happened then I cannot 
tell, for the press was great. Methinks he went 
straight to Paradise. It was his prayer, as thou 
knowest, that he should be taken there, and he was 
doubtless a good man. Perchance thou art sorry his 
prayer hath been granted.” 

All this while I noticed Ranee behaving in an extra- 
ordinary manner, rubbing her hands, laughing to 
herself, looking with a face of ecstasy from me to 
Tabal and from Tabal to me, and between times 
whispering eagerly to Donald. 

“I understand,” said that gentleman, turning to 
me all at once, and addressing me with a great air 
of ceremony — “I understand, indeed I may say I 
have authentic information that the most satisfactory 
arrangements have been made for your peace and 
safety. Rest assured you need disturb yourself no 
more with thoughts of the good Abram ben Aden. 
He has fulfilled his course and has his reward. Let 
us therefore dismiss that holy man from our minds 
in the full assurance that he is happy.” 

And then, stepping carelessly towards me, and 
pretending to examine some curiosity in my dress, 
he whispered, “Take a friendly act in the spirit in 
which it is performed, Glenrae. Abram has gone to 
Abraham’s bosom. Let him be.” 

Then, declaring loudly that it was unpardonable to 
treat friends as points of interrogation, and suddenly 


364 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


remembering a multitude of important matters that 
could not be neglected a moment longer, he swept the 
attention to other concerns. 

There were indeed many things to be done — visits 
to be paid and received, speeches and compliments to 
be exchanged, embracings to be endured, coffee to 
be sipped, pipes to be smoked, — in a word, strange, 
disquieting, and as it seemed to me endless rounds of 
etiquette to be observed. 

I was presented to Yumen Yusel, who showed a 
profound interest in my relations with Amood Sinn. 
That they were not of my seeking, but came about 
accidentally, I was careful to impress upon him, and 
he professed himself willing to believe me. I found 
him a mild and amiable gentleman, generous and 
charitable rather than masterful or energetic, and 
pathetically aware that the best part of his life was 
behind him. He was cordial and ready in praise of 
Donald’s genius and bravery. I think he perfectly 
understood the cause of his own unexampled success ; 
differing in that respect from some great folks I have 
known. 

He gave me an invitation, which I was not per- 
mitted to refuse, to spend at least a year with him in 
his palace of many chambers, when Donald and I 
should return from our quixotic wanderings; and he 
had the great goodness to hint that acceptable slaves 
would not be wanting. I wonder what he thinks or 
thought of my broken promise, or if he, amid his tor- 
rid sands and his cringing retinues, could ever picture 
me in my far northern land sheltering from driving 
snow or sniffing the honey of the heather-bloom. 

I was received on terms of equality by other illus- 
trious personages, the Shereef of Mecca being among 
them. I went freely about, bowing, scraping, em- 
bracing, flattering, and by every art and means in 
my power proving myself a sound Moslem and a 
good fellow. A few judicious whispers from Donald 
settled my rank, and explained why I happened to be 
there without the usual princely retinue. What lies 


A SONG IN THE NIGHT. 


365 


he told I never knew ; but I had ample testimony that 
they were sufficient. 

In my comings and goings I kept, as you may sup- 
pose, a sharp eye for any sign of recognition or hos- 
tility ; but no one identified the gorgeously apparelled 
Indian prince with the naked Nazarene who fled in 
terror from the Caaba. By Donald’s stringent orders 
both I and those concerned with me abstained from 
any reference to my secret. “Abram ben Aden is 
out of the way,” he said to me privately; “and there 
is no need to risk gratuitous complications.” 

Nevertheless the affair was frequently and freely 
talked of in our presence. It was treated as an ex- 
cellent jest; wits speculated regarding my feelings 
and humorists pictured my dismay. What was more 
to the point, I was assured a score of times by eye- 
witnesses, that after my body had been properly 
mutilated it was thrown to the dogs and devoured. 
This was scarcely pleasant information. Yet it 
served to give me composure and confidence. Only 
my healing wound ached a little more sharply at the 
thought of what my fate might have been. 

The great fair which succeeds the religious festival 
came on with infinite hubbub and bustle. It lasts 
three days, and is attended by traders and Hadjis 
from every corner of the Moslem world. There you 
may study the business methods of the pious Moham- 
medan, and discover how little he has to learn in 
guile from Jew or Christian. 

But it was not the uproar nor the bias of commer- 
cial morality that was uppermost in my mind. I 
longed with the “ unutterable longing” to be quit of 
Islam and its ways, and off to the land w r here my 
heart lay. The medley spectacle of the fair did not 
appeal to me; I had had my fill, nay, had partaken 
to satiety of the good things bequeathed by the 
Prophet to his deserving followers, and every hour 
increased my feverish impatience. 

Being a great man and charged with weighty 
affairs of State, Donald had much business to de- 


3G6 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


spatcb, which to me was utter foolishness and waste 
of time. But at last one day, breaking into the tent 
after a prolonged interview with Yumen Yusel, he 
announced that now he was at my service. Had he 
told me I was to die the next minute, I do not sup- 
pose I could have been more violently agitated. I 
was ready to weep; I was ready to laugh; I was 
ready to dance and shout ; I was ready to do anything 
save to take a sensible and effective part in the prepa- 
rations. One of my first acts on regaining self- 
possession was to break the intelligence to Tabal, 
who had been told nothing directly about our 
departure. 

“I am going away, Tabal,” I said, “far away to 
my own country; and the desert and the black tent 
will know me no more for ever.” 

He stared at me a moment as if vaguely endeavour- 
ing to grasp the meaning of my words ; then his face 
fell. 

“I feared some such tidings,” he said dolefully. 
But immediately he brightened. “ Tabal will go with 
thee,” he added. 

“That can scarcely be good, Tabal,” I answered. 
“ There is one who waiteth for thee in Marabel. I 
would not even for the love in which I hold thee rob 
an old man of the apple of his eye. Get thou ready 
to go back with the caravan.” 

“I will not go back unless thou drive me away,” 
he replied stubbornly. “Hast thou not saved my 
life, and am not I bound to thee as thy servant? 
Thou wilt take thy little Fatema. Let me go, I pray 
thee, to care for her.” 

But there were difficulties, chiefly of a financial 
character, which the loyal Tabal failed to understand. 
I was beginning to explain them to him, when Don- 
ald, who chanced to overhear us, broke in with a 
stormy generosity that brushed obstacles and objec- 
tions aside as if they were not worth a moment’s 
consideration. 

“ I will take the liberty of requesting you to leave 


A SONG IN THE NIGHT. 


36 ? 


this matter in my hands, Glenrae,” he said; “ I am 
taking Hassan” (the great black war horse), “ and my 
rogue Yasir bin Akbah is going to look after him and 
me. Hassan would die in his exile without the 
solacing company of Fatema. Therefore, with your 
permission, I propose to take her also. Ergo, as 
logicians say, that necessitates the taking of Tabal as 
well.” 

“ But think of the cost,” I said. 

“ I think of it so much, my dear Glenrae, that you 
may spare your over- taxed noddle a second thought 
of it. Now get ready like a willing comrade, and 
don’t argue. A soldier, as you ought to know, can 
stand anything but argument.” 

And Tabal, perceiving how the wind blew, first 
leaped for joy, then kneeling humbly kissed Donald’s 
hand and mine. 

“I think he deserves the trip,” remarked Donald, 
looking down upon the bended figure, “were it only 
for the world of trouble lie saved us with that saintly 
and enskied person, Abram ben Aden.” 

So there was nothing for it but to abandon myself 
to his masterful direction. I cannot aver that I was 
in the least loth to do it; after so tempestuous a 
course, so many racking casualties and imminent 
shipwrecks, it was like a foretaste of Heaven to re- 
sign myself into the hands of a pilot whose skill had 
so often been victoriously proved. 

Under Tabal’s special supervision a message was 
prepared for Said Achmet, briefly recounting our 
swelling fortunes, and telling him that his son was 
travelling for a while in the capacity of personal 
friend and attendant to me, that he was well in bod} r , 
and transcendently happy in mind, and was antici- 
pating the felicity of returning to the paternal roof at 
a date not far distant, loaded with the spoils of many 
lands. Presents would have accompanied the jubilant 
missive but for the fact that an honest messenger 
could not be found. When 1 ventured to mention 
the returning pilgrims Tabal laughed. 


368 


IN THE DAY OP BATTLE. 


“Entrust presents to Hadjis returning from the 
pilgrimage !” he said ; “ thou mightest as well give a 
lamb into the charge of wolves.” A judgment which 
was promptly confirmed by Donald, and indeed 
secretly acquiesced in by myself. 

The letter composed, and a suitable douceur given 
for its safe transmission, Baruk was delivered, with 
many manifestations of joy on his own part, into the 
keeping of Yumen Yusel. The querulous moanings 
for the downfall of Amood Sinn ceased immediately. 

Only one more ceremony of vital interest to me 
remained to be performed. I had kept the bunch of 
white heather, which had come so far for Donald, to 
the end, partly because I had not had a suitable 
opportunity of presenting it ; but chiefly, if the truth 
must be told, because of a natural inclination to keep 
surprises up my sleeve. When at length delay was 
no longer possible, I delivered the token of sisterly 
love with apologies for the tardy surrender. 

Donald took the withered sprigs gingerly, pretend- 
ing to be greatly amused; said Isabel should know 
how faithfully I had kept my trust; complimented 
me again on my pretty colour; and, kissing the 
bunch, deposited it in his breast. But he had to pull 
it out again, explain the whole matter to Ranee, and 
finally share the treasure with her; while I was ex- 
amined as to Isabel’s looks and character. I trust I 
was able to give a coherent account of both. 

That duty discharged, I packed my property, that 
is to say my Bible, my pipes, and my own bunch of 
faded heather, with feelings that seemed to burn. 

“Hame, hame, tame, O hame fain would I be, 

Hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie. ” 

Could it be true that I was really returning to Scot- 
land, to Glenrae, to the Elms, and that Donald was 
going with me? Sometimes I doubted; then with 
quivering, heady sensations believed; but whether 
doubting or believing, I was urgent, for our instant 
departure. Some time had yet to elapse, however, 


HOME— THE VULTURE’S CLAWS PARED. 3G9 


before we were suffered to go ; for Eastern etiquette 
has leisurely ways, and an immense, exasperating 
patience. But at length one glorious morning, a 
morning of eager joy and never-to-be-forgotten ex- 
ultation, we were permitted to say our last farewells. 

Ten days later we embarked at Jedda, with all our 
belongings, Yumen Yusel, the Shereef of Mecca, and 
a brilliant company of sheiks and great men doing us 
final honour. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

HOME— THE VULTtJRE’S CLAWS PARED. 

The scene changes as if magicians had the shifting 
of it. The scorching sands, the battles, barbarities, 
disasters, flights, are mere memories, deep and in- 
delible it is true, yet only memories. The realities 
now are the grey, licliened rocks, the wheeling pee- 
wit, the scented heather, the black tarns, the clear, 
leaping brooks; and above all the faces and fellow- 
ship of those we love. The contrast has still potency 
to make the cockles of my heart glow. 

That home-coming was such as had never been 
known in the sedate, doucely ordered valley in which 
Glenrae and the Elms lie snugly sheltered. Old peo- 
ple talk of it yet by the chimney cheek in winter 
nights, and the young listen with open mouths and 
wide eyes to the wondrous tale of the sudden appear- 
ance one quiet evening of a company of outlandish 
folk with the jargon and garb of heathendom. I 
wish some of those people were now at hand to de- 
scribe what they saw ; for I have come to a point that 
seems to touch me more closely in my tenderest part, 
and to make it more difficult to write than anything 
that went before. But I will briefly relate what re- 
mains to be told of this extraordinary history, and 
endeavour to be lucid. 

In his wanderings in the East, Donald had imbibed 
high notions of pageantry and the picturesque, and 


370 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


so to gratify his tastes it was decided we should make 
our appearance in the best style at our command — 
that is to say, in full Oriental costume, and in a 
special carriage. 

“It will be a free spectacle for the natives,” he 
said. “It isn’t every day that Arab sheiks and 
Indian princes arrive in Scotland. We are not going 
to sneak home with our tails between our legs.” 

Accordingly, on reaching Perth we invoked the 
aid of my old friend of the Hound and Stag, who on 
recovering from the shock consequent on recognizing 
me in my glorified state, procured for us at a cost 
that, on his own words, was “perfeckly awfae,” the 
best barouche and the fastest pair in the city. 

To make the more imposing show, Tabaland Yasir 
bin Akbah, accoutred in Arab fashion with a spear 
and half a dozen daggers apiece, were to ride behind 
on Fatema and Hassan. Very glad they were, too, 
to get into the saddle again, both to stretch their 
muscles, according to wont, and to display their 
horsemanship. The horses also whinnied with de- 
light at the touch of the familiar girths, and when 
mounted danced a jig unknown to the sober steeds of 
these isles. 

The town gathered to witness the spectacle of our 
departure, and it afterwards leaked out that the pro- 
vost and council were at the moment excitedly con- 
sidering the question of entertaining the Indian 
nabobs who had so unexpectedly honoured their city. 
But we were off before the good men could decide, 
with half the population at our heels, as if we exer- 
cised the charm of the pied piper of Hamelin. And 
the mighty sensation of the starting was continued all 
along our route. People rushed gaping from houses 
and fields to get a glimpse of us at close quarters, and 
those whom we met generally turned and followed 
us, as long as the} r had breath. Some saluted us as 
if we w’ere foreign potentates, others stared as if they 
had been turned into stone, and yet others by their 
looks seemed to apprehend an invasion. 


HOME — THE VULTURE’S CLAWS PARED. 371 

When we swept through Aberfourie there was the 
commotion that an earthquake or the descent of an 
armed band of robbers might have caused. Fain 
would I have stopped to make myself known to the 
villagers and see their astonishment, but at that stage 
the commands of the queen would scarce have made 
us tarry. Could we stay to satisfy idle curiosity, 
almost within sight of Glenrae and the Elms? No; 
for we were human. So we sped on without drawing 
rein, our hearts full of that strange turmoil of joy 
and apprehension which the returning exile alone 
knows, and our tongues, or, more properly, my 
tongue, busy with all manner of thrilling conjectures. 
The carriage horses were lathered and blowing after 
their forty miles, though Fatema and Hassan, with 
more trying work, did not show a wet hair. But no 
consideration for blown horses could have induced us 
to delay. The coachman was ordered to whip up, 
and instead of slackening, the pace increased. 

As we rolled bumping and shaking over the rough 
mountain road, in the midst of many whirling 
thoughts suddenly old Duncan’s parting words flashed 
upon me. 

“ God bless ye, take it. It will be the siller pipes I 
learned ye to blaw on. Ayont the seas ye’ll can gie 
a skirl at times to mind ye of old friends; and when 
ye come back ye’ll can march to your own quick 
step.” 

In less time than it takes me to w^rite this sentence, 
the silver pipes were out of the green bag. 

“You shall be played home like a hero, Gordon!” 
I cried, leaping upon the dickey, to the sore disquie- 
tude of the coachman, who was evidently unable to 
make up his mind whether we were really great folks 
or simply maniacs. 

The scream of the pipes made the horses almost as 
wild as I was myself. 

“ I canna liaud them !” yelled the coachman, laying 
his weight on the reins, “I’ll never win back to 
Perth safe. Woa! woa! May I never earn another 


372 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


sixpence if I ever come oot wi’ daft folk again. 
Woa, Dandy ! woa, Meg! — ah ! ye limmer, taking the 
bit atween your teeth. If I smash this kerridge, I 
may as weel go and hang myseP.” 

“Let them out, you fool!” I cried breathlessly. 
They seemed to me to be crawling, crawling as if 
they were foundererd, spavined, broken- winded. 
We had but a mile to go, one short mile, yet we 
were ages in going it. We should have harnessed 
Hassan and Fatema in place of these creeping Scotch 
snails. 

“Use your whup, man!” I roared again. “Make 
them lift their lazy feet !” 

“ Use ma whup !” he screeched. “ Lord, I wush I 
could just baud them in. Woa, Dandy! Woa, 
Meg!” He cast an appealing, terrified look at me. 
“Ye’ll put them daft,” he pleaded; “ye’ll put them 
clean daft, if ye dinna stop thae skirlin’ pipes. 
The’re no Hieland horses.” 

“ Lowland asses, I should think, by the grass they 
let grow under their feet,” I retorted savagely. 
“ Now, you keep them straight and let them go,” and 
I blew shriller, wilder than ever. “When Johnny 
Comes Marching Home” was now my tune ; and the 
birds flew in terror from the rocks at the mad excite- 
ment of the strain ; the horses leaped and plunged, 
and the coachman was at a loss whether to swear, or 
faint, or cast me from the box. Another half-mile — 
two or three minutes more. Couldn’t the old wife 
who was driving use his whip? Then, all at once, 
the chimney tops of Glenrae rose amid the dusky 
heath, as I had seen them rise when last I returned 
from Edinburgh ; and I almost dropped. I had never 
known excitement till that moment. 

“ Gordon !” I screamed, standing straight up. 
“There it is. Good Lord, there it is. Not a bit 
changed; not one little bit. Look, they’re all to- 
gether. All the chimneys are smoking; they must 
have company.” 

Settling down to work again I played fiercer and 


HOME— THE VULTURE’S CLAWS PARED. 373 

fiercer. Ranee stuffed her ears, but Donald encour- 
aged me, and the coachman, hanging on the reins, 
swore we should be headlong over a precipice; but 
the speed was not checked. 

A quarter of a mile more, and I saw a man in a 
field near the house. He stood looking towards us, 
shading his eyes with his hands. He gazed thus for 
perhaps half a minute, then, suddenly turning, he 
made off as if he were pursued by the enemy of man- 
kind. It was Duncan. I shouted to him^ I waved 
his own pipes, and, but for the pace, would have 
leaped down and run after him. Compelled to keep 
my seat, I struck up again faster and louder, and 
more discordantly than any piper blew since pipes 
were invented by Adam — 

“The girls will sing, and the boys will shout, 

And the ladies they will all turn out, 

And we’ll all feel gay, when Johnny conies marching home.” 

The horses were frantic. “I tell ye we’ll a’ be 
killed, ” gasped the coachman. “ They’re fair dreepin’ 
wi’ fricht. Steady, Meg; steady, Dandy — there’s a 
dear. If ye have any pickle o’ sense left in ye, stop 
that skirlin’. Why was I ever sent out wi’ the like 
o’ ye? There’s a wheel gane. Ho; only a loup o’ 
the thing. Lord, save us alive! My puir horses, 
they’re clean daft, clean daft!” 

At last we were off the county road and into the 
avenue — the avenue to Glenrae House. I was giddy 
and distracted. I played, but Heaven alone knows 
what the tune was or how many tunes were hashed 
up together. Up we went, like a Roman chariot in 
a race, the barouche bounding like a ball when it 
struck a stone, the horses foaming and dripping, the 
driver like a ghost. Duncan had reached the house 
and given the alarm; and people were hurriedly 
gathering on the lawn. Heavens- above ! there 
were my mother, and Isabel, and Sir Thomas Gor- 
don, and my father. 

I made a heart-rending effort to strike up “The 


374 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


Highland Laddie. ” There was an ear-splitting noise ; 
but, as I was assured afterwards, not so much as the 
suggestion of a tune. Then, finding music an in- 
sufficient vent for my feelings, I got to my feet and 
whirled the pipes about my head. Donald, too, un- 
able any longer to resist, rose and, snatching off his 
turban, waved also. Bruce charged down upon us, 
every bristle on his back erect; and those on the lawn 
looked as if they would fly. 

Two hundred yards more to go — only two hundred. 
Could the horses not mend their snail’s pace? Bend- 
ing forward, I struck at them with the pipes, and 
they gave a spring that nearly broke the traces. 

“It’s weel we’re so near the end,” said the coach- 
man; “ God am no used to this.” 

I threatened to fling him from his seat, and out 
went the lash in stinging coils that made the frantic 
horses spring afresh. I could have gone faster than 
they did, and beside my crazy turmoil of mind their 
excitement was tranquillity itself. All the experi- 
ences I had gone through were as nothing to the 
sensations of that moment of transport and agony. 

We dashed through a gate, taking some splinters 
from a post with us, and round a curve ; then, all at 
once, the horses were on their haunches, as, without 
asking the coachman’s leave, I threw myself on the 
reins. Before the wheels had stopped we were on the 
ground, and those who had been watching our des- 
perate approach, pale as death, and crying with joy, 
and fright, and amazement, were upon us. 

You must ask some one else for a description of the 
scene that ensued. The only person in it, outside of 
Tabal and Yasir bin Akbah, who made any pretence 
of keeping his head was Donald; and he afterwards 
said he had never known himself to act so much like 
an idiot. The rest of us, so far as I can learn, had 
not the least semblance of sanity. There is a joy, 
they say, that kills. Assuredly there is a joy that 
makes mad ; and it was upon us then in raging force. 
We were delirious with an ecstasy that sent our wits 


HOME— THE VULTURE’S CLAWS PARED. 375 


like chaff in a sudden blast. In a single in- 
stant, so to speak, we were whirled through a million 
realms of poignant feeling; the emotion of a lifetime 
was condensed into one burning moment; and, under 
the fierce stimulant, we acted as beings possessed. 
That, at any rate, was Tabal’s opinion communicated 
to me confidentially a few days subsequently. 

In any case, I was in no condition to observe 
minutely, or judge dispassionately. Consequently I 
find it now not only impossible to give an accurate 
account of the demonstration, but hard to disentangle 
even the major impressions. Perhaps what remains 
with me most vividly — after the memory of my dear 
mother’s frenzied embrace — is that Sir Thomas Gor- 
don, murmuring words of gratitude for the service I 
had done him, took my hand and wept over it like a 
child ; and that Isabel, in presence of them all, kissed 
me fervently on the cheek. 

Ah me ! I never could forget that. When I think 
of it after the lapse of nearly half a century, that spot 
seems to glow with a youthful heat as if it were the 
only part of me that keeps perpetually young. It is 
on the right cheek, pretty high up, and sometimes I 
go to her and say, “ Isabel, is there a red ring on that 
cheek of mine?” and she, well knowing what I mean, 
will answer with a pleased smile, and maybe a slight 
heightening of the colour, “ Tush, tush, a man of'your 
years should be thinking of other things.” Nor can 
I deny she is right; for a man who has grandchildren 
climbing over his knees ought not to be foolish; 
though, as I tell her, I can scarce convict myself of 
foolishness, since it does one good to try to feel young 
again. But all this is too far ahead of this story to 
be gone into here. 

As you may suppose, a wondrous fuss was made 
over Ranee. Sir Thomas and Isabel, to her unutter- 
able delight, welcomed her cordially in her own 
tongue ; and my father, forgetting his antipathies to 
foreigners of her colour, kissed the little brown hand 
she extended to him in his grandest fashion. And 


376 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


my mother, though sorely puzzled what to make of a 
creature who dressed so oddly, and understood no 
European tongue save scraps of English that served 
only to mislead, received her with all the warmth of 
a heart that knew not how to be cold. But, indeed, 
Ranee’s pretty ways were not to be resisted, and she 
was soon, by virtue of her own good qualities, estab- 
lished as a favourite with all. To Isabel she was as 
a sister; and to my mother, when the linguistic diffi- 
culties began to disappear, as a daughter. 

I should add that Tabal and Yasir bin Akbah, 
considerably to their embarrassment, came in for a 
liberal share of the goodwill ; and that with Donald 
and Ranee, they long continued to be objects of in- 
tense curiosity, not merely to those at the Elms and 
Glenrae, but to the whole countryside. For a while 
the general opinion was that they had all come, as 
part of my retinue, and every one remembered how 
he or she had predicted speedy wealth for me. 

“I kenned ye would soon be back wi’ a fortune, 
and a wheen black men, sir,” the people would say, 
when congratulating me on my happy return. “ I 
aye said so.” 

Good cause I had to wish that the fawning suppo- 
sition were true. The first gladness of my home- 
coming was scarcely over, or the tale of my adventures 
told, when I began to suspect that things were as bad 
with us as when I left, that, indeed, they were a 
great deal w r orse. My father, being a taciturn man, 
said little to indicate pressing trouble; but my dear 
mother, who used to be the light of the place, now 
went about with a white drawn face, and eyes that 
were hardly ever dry. 

Now I can bear anything better than the silent dis- 
tress of a woman, especially of a woman I love; and 
I could not endure my mother’s afflicted looks with- 
out putting questions. So on the third or fourth day 
after my arrival, chancing to be alone with her, I 
asked her why she was so troubled, and if there was 
anything I could do for her. At this, throwing her 


HOME— THE VULTURE’S CLAWS PARED. 377 


arms about my neck, she laid her head on my breast, 
and sobbed so sorely, that I could not help crying for 
company. 

“My darling mother,” I said, “what does all this 
mean? Tell me what is the matter?” 

She did not speak, but stood weeping, and stroking 
my hair as she used to do in the long past. 

“Tell me, mother, what is wrong?” I said, again. 
“Tell me — I cannot endure this.” 

“Oh, Angus, it breaks my heart,” she answered 
through her crying, “ to think that after all you have 
done and suffered, you come back to a ruined home. 
How can I tell it to you? Yet you must know. 
Nothing but a miracle will save us from being turned 
out like beggars on the heath.” 

The world suddenly swam before my eyes. 

“And who is doing this?” I asked, in a quick 
gasp. 

“The man who professed so much friendship for 
us. Your father’s cousin, Thomas Clephane, the 
lawyer of Dundee.” 

“ Thomas Clephane!” I repeated, for the idea could 
scarcely force itself into my brain. “Thomas Cle- 
phane! And how may he have the power to do it?” 

“He has the power which a debt gives to the 
usurer. He holds an overdue mortgage on the whole 
place. ” 

“ Mother !” I cried, with sudden anger. “ He shall 
not take Glenrae. I will kill him first !” 

She clung to me with the tense grip of terror. 
“No, no!” she said, in a sharp piteous voice. # “ You 
will not commit murder. I must not lose my boy as 
well as my home. No, no; I must not lose you.” 

“ You are not going to lose me, mother. Now be 
calm and tell me just one thing more; has his son — 
has Peter been near the place at all?” 

“Many times. Oh, they are a wicked, cruel set! 
I think Peter is friendly with Miss Gordon. But do 
not start like that, and look so wild. You must not 
be doing anything rash. Promise me that, Angus. 


378 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


Mind, they have the law on their side ; mind that, 
dear, and control yourself.” 

“ I will do nothing rash, mother, except in your 
defence. Now let me go.” 

My father entered, and I went out, saying I wished 
to see Donald Gordon. 

Five minutes later I was at the Elms, hot with 
running, and hotter still with anger. In the drawing- 
room I found Sir Thomas Gordon, Isabel, Donald, 
Ranee, and — Peter Clephane. As sight of him my 
anger rose to a white-hot passion, that made it hard 
to keep my promise to my mother. Rising to his 
feet, Peter saluted me with a feigned smile of pleas- 
ure, saying he had heard I was home, and I bowed 
slightly in return, pretending not to notice the three 
fingers he held out to me. Then we sat down, and 
did not address each other once while we remained 
in the room. 

When my visit (which was brief) was at an end, 
what must Donald in his devilment do, but propose 
that we three young men should have a walk to- 
gether. To my surprise, Peter Clephane agreed with 
alacrity, remarking it was the very thing he desired. 
The reason was speedily made clear. 

“Sir,” he said to me, when we were in the road, 
“your travels have not mended your manners. You 
have insulted me.” 

“Sir,” I replied, “you give me unspeakable pleas- 
ure. I will insult you again.” 

Donald looked from one to the other for an explana- 
tion, but we were too hot to think of giving it. 

“Sir,” hissed Peter, “if I had a sword or a pistol 
you should eat your words.” 

“It’s a thing I mortally hate,” I answered; “but 
you are so wondrously clever that maybe you can 
make me do it. I shall be extremely gratified if you 
try. We have some old scores to settle and some new 
ones. Choose your weapon, and name your time and 
place.” 

Donald whistled. 


HOME— THE VULTURE’S CLAWS PARED. 379 


“A private matter, I presume,” lie said. 

“I don’t know that it is,” returned Peter, with the 
spitefulness of a girl calling names. “It’s simply 
this: some people spend more than they earn, and 
then go a-borrowing. My worthy cousin can tell you 
the rest.” 

“And will,” I said. “Some people pretend to be 
friends, and turn out to be vultures. In the present 
instance the vultures are a fat lawyer of Dundee and 
his elegant son.” 

“ It’s a foul lie !” cried Peter ; “ we want only our 
own, and nothing more.” 

“That’s a matter of argument,” I answered, “and 
would lead us away from business. We have many 
things to settle, and this seems an excellent oppor- 
tunity.” 

And, to make a long story short, it was arranged 
there and then that we should have a moonlight 
meeting, pistols to be the weapons. I should have 
preferred the sword ; but I was too eager to get at 
him to haggle over trifles. Donald was to act as my 
second, and one David Macfarlane, a companion from 
Dundee, who was then staying at the village iun, 
was to see that Peter would have fair play. 

I went back to Glenrae with murder in my heart. 
My experiences had indurated and petrified my sense 
of right and wrong; so that the slaying of a fellow- 
man seemed no more than the killing of a serpent. 
Surely no act can be recorded in blacker letters in the 
Book of Doom. But I did not stay to weigh such 
questions then ; nay, I hugged the thought that Peter 
was to die that night by my hand. I don’t think it 
occurred to me once to calculate consequences, save 
perhaps as regarded my own immediate safety. 
There were moments, indeed, when my mother’s 
yearning solicitude and heart- wrung injunctions 
made my purpose falter ; but after sucfi dampings it 
sprang up ever hotter and stronger, like a smith’s 
fire that has been watered and blown. I comforted 
her with equivocations (God forgive me) while await- 


380 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


ing the hour that was to give me revenge for many 
a rankling wrong. 

When the time came, I slipped secretly out (hav- 
ing breathed no whisper of what was in the wind), 
and made off to the trysting-place where Donald 
was to have my weapon tested and ready. As I 
was hurrying along, full of raging hate and anger, I 
was startled at hearing my name called from a 
thicket by the wayside. Turning quickly, I saw 
a tall muffled figure coming towards me from 
among the bushes. Now it is perhaps best to own I 
am not above an occasional superstition. Immedi- 
ately my head was full of uncanny things about 
wraiths and witches, and the hair rose on my cold 
scalp. But the next instant my heart was leaping 
with an emotion that was not fear ; for the voice that 
spoke to me was not one to be afraid of. 

“You are in great haste, Mr. Angus,” said Isabel, 
coming up and throwing off the hood that concealed 
her face. “ Surety you must be bent on some deed of 
charity to be in such a hurry.” 

And then laughing quietly, she added before I 
could speak — 

“You are a very pretty fellow in your warlike 
humour. I am afraid your travels have made you 
forget the ways of peaceable people.” 

Seeing that she knew all, 1 asked her how she had 
discovered the secret. 

“You men are fine hands at keeping a secret,” she 
said. “ I devoted five minutes to my warlike brother 
and learned all I wished to know. And now don’t 
you think you had just better go back, and not put 
crime on your head by killing that poor fellow? 
Mind, I would not carry food to you in case you had 
to take to the life of a fox.” 

So we stood and argued the matter, I pointing out 
to her, as well as my clumsy tongue could, how deeply 
my honour was concerned and how dastardly it would 
be to turn back. I succeeded as I invariably succeed 
in argument, that is to say I got thoroughly beaten, 


HOME— THE VULTURE’S CLAWS PARED. 381 

“ A fine thing is this honour to fight about,” she 
said with a bantering little laugh, though it pleased 
me to fancy I detected a touch of deeper emotion 
behind. “ Do you think you will be any better or 
happier after you have maimed Mr. Clephane for 
life, or, maybe, killed him? You would look well 
in a hue-and-cry description, wouldn’t you? They 
would come to me for information regarding your 
personal appearance, and I should tell them — let me 
see what I should tell them?” And with mock grav- 
ity she described my features, my height, the colour 
of my hair and eyes, and so forth, dwelling a little 
maliciously on all the oddities which her quick eye 
had caught. She might have done with me what 
she would had she not gone on. “The quarrel, I 
think, is of your seeking. You had better consider, 
Mr. Angus, how you press it on an innocent 
person.” 

So she had come to beg for my opponent’s life, had 
she? Well, we would see about granting her petition. 
Like a boor I told her it would be my greatest pleas- 
ure in life to put a bullet into the heart of Peter 
Clephane. 

“ Oh !” she said, in a changed voice, and I could 
see a sudden flush on her face in the moonlight. “ Oh ! 
I did not expect that answer, Mr. Angus.” 

I saw my mistake instantly, but before there was 
time to speak a word of apology, Donald was through 
the wood looking for me. 

“This is fine work,” he called out; “we shall be 
late. It wants but five minutes of the time now. 
For Heaven’s sake, Glenrae, don’t be late; it’s almost 
as bad as running away. ” 

“But, Donald, this is a foolish quarrel,” pleaded 
Isabel, in spite of my rudeness. 

“Tut, tut, Sis. Girls don’t understand these 
things,” answered Donald. “You shouldn’t be 
abroad at this hour. Go back and keep Ranee com- 
pany ; she is lonely to-night.” 

Then, just as we were about to turn into an adja- 


382 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


cent field, a boy came up and presented a letter to 
Donald. 

“From Mr. David Macfarlane,” he said. 

“Hold on, Glenrae,” cried Donald, “I must run to 
the light and see what he says.” 

He went, and Isabel and I were again alone. 

I made haste to stammer what apology I could 
frame, and, being unusued to the exercise, I managed 
badly and suffered grievously ; but, luckily for me, I 
was dealing with one who had better qualities than 
pride. 

Laughing at me for my pains, she asked if it was 
the ladies of Arabia who had taught me to make fine 
speeches, said she had never suspected my eloquence, 
and, rather by manner than word, indicated that per- 
haps I had not for ever forfeited her friendship. 

Scarcely had I my peace made, when Donald came 
back. 

“Coward, poltroon, slanderer!” we heard him say 
while he was still some distance off. “ The mean, 
sneaking cur ! The contemptible cabbage-hearted 
villain!” 

Laughing and clapping her hands Isabel ran to 
meet him. 

“What is it, Donald?” she asked eagerly. 

“ This,” he answered in disgust. “ That that hound 
who dared to come to the Elms as a gentleman, has 
funked; called off on sudden business, father or 
grandfather or somebody dead or dying, as if an 
affair of this sort were not more important than any 
business. If ever he sets foot here again I’ll kick 
him.” 

There was a rippling laugh of gladness from Isa- 
bel. And she clapped her hands again. 

“Sis,” demanded Donald, almost fiercely, “have 
you any hand in this dastardly trick of his? Have 
you helped to get him out of the way?” 

“I don’t answer rude questions, my w r arrior of the 
Crescent,” she said, smiling in his face, and tapping 
the bridge of his nose with her forefinger. “When 


HOME — THE VULTURE’S CLAWS PARED. 383 

you find me doing a dastardly trick, then ask again. 
You are both very angry at having your fun spoiled. 
But my brave gentlemen must remember they are 
now in a civilized land. Get home, both of you, and 
pray Heaven to grant you more sense for the future. 
You need it; and one is just as bad as the other.” 

And there being nothing else for it, after a deal of 
talk, we did as we were told. 

The duel was a fiasco, chiefly as I hold through the 
strategy of a woman, though she will by no means 
make confession, yet it was not without result; and 
that is the end of my story and my reason for dwell- 
ing so long on a trivial incident. From Peter’s 
words and a letter he wrote to Isabel (which has not 
to this day been acknowledged), the Gordons heard 
of the desperate condition of our affairs ; but as our 
pride would not permit us to speak of our difficulties, 
so neither would the delicacy of the Gordons permit 
any reference to them that might cause us pain or 
offence. 

But at length the time came when it was impossi- 
ble to conceal matters any longer, and, taking me 
with him for company, my father went one day to 
the Elms, to tell Sir Thomas all. He had no inten- 
tion of asking for assistance nor any expectation of 
receiving it; but simply wished to do away with false 
appearances and stand, as he was, a ruined man. 

The two retired to the smoking-room for their talk, 
and they might have been an hour together, when 
Donald and I, chancing to pass the door, were called 
in. There was a strange silence when we entered. 
My father’s eyes were wet, a thing I had seen not 
more than once in my life before, and Sir Thomas 
was smoking at a furious rate as if trying to hide 
himself in the blue clouds he was emitting. They 
looked at each other once or twice with an odd ex- 
pression, before a word was said ; then Sir Thomas, 
taking his pipe from his mouth, and with great diffi- 
culty clearing his throat, made a little speech. 

Imagine my astonishment, to hear him begin an 


384 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


eulogy on myself for the inestimable service I had 
rendered him in restoring Donald to his family (here 
Donald nodded with great vigour), and for the hardi- 
hood I had shown in going to the ends of the earth 
after the scapegrace (here Donald again nodded with 
greater vigour). 

“And whereas, Mr. Angus,” he pursued, “one Mr. 
Thomas Clephane, being blessed with more gear than 
grace, has by wile and guile and sundry acts of the 
usurer got into his possession certain deeds and docu- 
ments which will entitle him, failing the payment of 
certain moneys, to take possession of Glenrae to the 
ruth and harm of its rightful owners, I being moved 
thereto by divers good reasons already set forth, have 
made up my mind to cheat him.” 

“ It pains me to find my respected father descend 
to cheating,” put in Donald. 

“Silence, you rogue!” rejoined Sir Thomas, with 
affected sternness. “ I will cheat now, if I have 
never cheated before or will never cheat again. And 
what is more, I shouldn’t be surprised if I glory in 
my shame.” 

I did not then know what I afterwards learned, 
that Donald had been the instigator of this saving act 
of roguery. 

“On this day week,” resumed Sir Thomas, “at 
twelve o’clock noon precisely, this Thomas Clephane 
and his myrmidons will, according to an instrument 
which I have perused, demand the aforesaid moneys 
at Glenrae House, and failing due payment, will pro- 
ceed to take possession. It will be my pleasure to see 
the money paid, and the usurer and would-be usurper 
kicked from the premises. I am a mild man, but 
Heaven give me strength to chastise that villain. ” 

“Oh, papa, papa!” cried a clear bell-like voice, 
“that is ferocious language for you.” 

“ Come in, my dear,” called Sir Thomas, in a husky 
voice; and Isabel and Ranee walked in. Sir Thomas 
was again smoking furiously, but presently he was 
able to tell Isabel what had taken place. 


HOME— THE VULTURE’S CLAWS PARED. 385 


She pretended to be greatly surprised (Heaven 
bless her dear deceit), because, as I learned after- 
wards, she did not care to own she had been listening. 
But, indeed, the proposal had been no secret at the 
Elms for a week before. 

“But the conditions, Sir Thomas,” I said, all in a 
tremour with excitement. “You must name the 
conditions.” 

“ These,” said he, and I thought there was a sparkle 
in his eye as he glanced from me to Isabel, “ these I 
dare say can be arranged, Mr. Angus. There are 
the documents, you know, the documents the man 
Clephane holds. Suppose they are transferred to me. 
I have had my eye on Glenrae for a long time. 
When you were away I was plotting and scheming 
to get it. Why should I let it go to a Dundee law- 
yer? In my old age I am just beginning to find out 
how delightful it is to disappoint people, and how 
charming a vice is covetousness.” 

He stopped, looked round the company, puffed some 
enormous clouds from his pipe, and then said sud- 
denly from the midst of them, “ Besides, though you 
mightn’t think it, an old man sometimes discovers in 
what quarter the wind sits. Occasionally he can 
even see the sun at noon like his neighbours. Dear 
me, how stuffy it is in here! Let us get into the 
fresh air.” 

With perhaps the lightest foot I ever set to earth, I 
ran to tell my mother the good tidings. At first she 
could not believe me ; but when my father, too, burst 
in, breathless and beaming, her unbelief gave way, 
and she must needs weep for joy. 

“I knew my boy would save us,” she cried, and 
the tears came in a faster torrent. “ Let us thank 
God for all His mercies.” And we did. 

Punctually on the day, and at the hour when they 
money was due, Thomas Clephane and his men 
appeared. He strutted into the house with an inso- 
lent air of ownership, thinking it no longer necessary 
to be polite, even to my mother, and spreading out 


386 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


his warrants, began to read them. But with an air 
of withering dignity my father stopped him. 

“ I think this will probably save you the trouble of 
going farther,” he said, taking down a bag from a 
convenient shelf. And then, to the utter amazement 
and confounding of the lawyer, he counted out the 
cash, sovereign by sovereign. 

“Now, Thomas Clephane,” he said, as he laid 
down the last piece of gold, “give me my lawful re- 
ceipt, and be off ; and may I never set eyes on you 
again.” 

“ Go !” I said sternly, as the lawyer was beginning 
a fawning speech. “The quicker you are off the 
premises the better. ” 

At that instant Sir Thomas and Donald entered 
from an inner room. 

“So here you are,” said Sir Thomas to the now 
cowering lawyer. “ Ever like Judas with the money 
bags. So, so. It is a most fascinating and elevat- 
ing vocation, is it not? Yet Judas hanged him- 
self. But there may be no moral in that, none at 
any rate that need disturb a lawyer in good stand- 
ing. It would be a pity if you were to follow his 
example. For I believe you have not only talents but 
virtues.” 

“Ah, Sir Thomas,” began the lawyer, whiningly. 
But he was promptly stopped. 

“ Pray do not violate the proprieties,” said Donald, 
in a tone of mingled scorn and blandness. “ It is not 
in character for serpents to make speeches, even 
although the great head had once a persuasive gift of 
the tongue. Besides your shining qualities are their 
own orators and eulogists. You have played, sir, a 
pretty game, an extremely pretty game; played it 
too bravely, and with a delicacy and skill entirely 
beyond praise. It is to be regretted that Fortune did 
not smile upon you. But she was ever an unfeeling 
jade. Another time, and under happier circum- 
stances, your exceeding and admirable adroitness 
will doubtless have better success.” 


HOME— THE VULTURE’S CLAWS PARED. 387 

“You know, sir, how to speak galling words,” put 
in the wincing lawyer. 

“ I assure you it grieves me that our civilities must 
be confined to words,” rejoined Donald. 

“ I may be permitted to explain,” broke in the law- 
yer again. 

Donald made a peremptory gesture for silence. 

“ Pray do not think us discourteous if we deny you 
that pleasure,” he said with increasing austerity. 
“ I would counsel you to give your tongue a holiday 
and see what can be done with your conscience. 
You will probably find it needs your care. You have 
your money, hadn’t you better be going? If you 
weren’t an old man and a lawyer it would be my 
supreme delight to expedite your departure. As it 
is I may but request 3’ou to make all convenient 
haste to relieve us of your presence.” 

“I came but for my own,” said the lawyer, half 
appealingly, half insolently. 

“ And having got it you would be wise in not 
gnashing your teeth on a file. Sound the retreat, sir, 
sound the retreat, while it’s possible to retire in some 
order. We are eager for a sight of your back.” 

He went shamefacedly, and with a stooping gait; 
his bag of gold weighing upon him heavier than a 
millstone. And so Glenrae was ransomed. 

Here my story naturally ends. What befell in the 
happy times that followed, how Donald and I scoured 
the country on our Arabs, how Isabel and myself be- 
came faster friends, and Ranee was established as 
mistress of the Elms, I may not tell. Nor may I tell 
the story of Donald Gordon as in the long days 
among the summer heather he told it to me. 

These things scarcely pertain to this history. Some 
other time they may be set forth ; but not now. Yet 
though I may not proceed I find it hard to end, hard 
to lay aside once more, and for the last time, that life 
of sturt and strife which the present writing has re- 
vived in all its fearful and fascinating vividness. 
Sometimes in my musing moods I wonder whether I 


388 


IN THE DAY OF BATTLE. 


can be the person who had all those adventures, those 
hair-breadth escapes, those broilings under a tortur- 
ing sun in far off barbarous lands. And — 

“When the dumb hour clothed in black 
Brings the dreams about my bed,” 

I live many harrowing scenes over again, and often 
start up shaking with a cold fear to draw a deep sigh 
of relief at finding myself snug and safe ; and then I 
bend my head and thank God that all those trials are 
fifty years behind me. 


THE END. 


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LAUGH AND GROW FAT. 

A collection of the best writings of this 
great author, most profusely illustrated, 
with over 500 pages. It is the funniest book 
ever published. Bill Nye needs no intro- 
duction. The mention of the book is 
enough. 

BILL NYE'S REMARKS. 

“I love to believe that true greatness is 
not accidental. To think and to say that 
greatness is a lottery is pernicious. Man may be wrong sometimes in his judgment 
of others, individually and in the aggregate, but he who gets ready to be a great 
man will surely find the opportunity.” 


“I should like to do anything that would advance the cause of science, but I 
should not want to form the habit of dissecting people, lest some day I might be 
called upon to dissect a friend for whom I had a great attachment or some creditor 
who had an attachment for me.” 


“I have passed through an earthquake and an Indian outbreak, but I would 
rather ride an earthquake without saddle or bridle, than to bestride a successful 
broncho eruption.” 


“Age brings caution and a lot of shop-worn experience, purchased at the highest 
market price. Time brings vain regrets and wisdom teeth that can be left in a 
glass of water over night.” 


"Too much of our hotel food tastes like the second day of January, or the fifth 
day of July. That's the whole thing in a few words, and unless the good hotels are 
closer together, we shall have to multiply our cemetery facilities.” 

"Pride is all right if it is of the right kind, but the pride that induces a man to 
muss up the carpet with his brains, because there is nothing left for him to do but 
to labor, it is the kind that Lucifer had when he bolted the action of the convention 
and went over to the red-hot minority.” 


PRESS NOTICES. 

“When Bill Nye turns himself loose for fun the laughing belt of readers should 
be tightened to prevent accidents .”— Inter Ocean , Chicago. 

"Bill Nye always Interests and his genial, big-hearled, 6unny nature shines 
through every line in his book .” — Pittsburg Press. 

"We believe that Bill Xj-e Is the brightest humorist of the day. No change in 
the English language can ever do away with his fun. He is a public benefactor; 
one of the greatest men of his age. We shudder to think what will become of us 
when he is gone. May fate stay the day .” —Philadelphia Press. 

For sale at all book stores, news stands, and on all railroad trains or sent pre- 
paid on receipt of price. 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, 

CHICAGO. PUBLISHER. NEW YORK. 


2F AMERICAN 
HISTORY. 


(\ P£N2R£H£ 

NBBLY’cS •_• • • 

NEW REVERSIBLE HISTORICAL CHART. 

POLITICAL AND UNITED STATES 
MAP COMBINED. 

Chronological Discoveries, Explorations, Inventions, and 
Important Events. A Brief History of the World’s 
Columbian Exposition. Area and Population of States 
and Territories, with Census of 1890. Area and Popu- 
lation of Foreign Countries Compared with the United 
States. 


Better than an Encyclopedia. Printed in 11 Beautiful Colors. 

THE ONLY CENSUS MAP PUBLISHED. 


A Double Wall Map, 5 feet 6 inches by 3 feet 10 inches, 
mounted on rollers top and bottom, ready r to hang. 


IX TFI I ^ How many Presidents we have had and politics of each. 
* * I t.L.l-0 what party George Washington represented. What Presi- 
dents died while in office. How many Presidents served two terms. Which 
candidate rec ived the largest number of votes and was defeated. When each 
political party was organized. How many Congresses have convened and the 
political complexion of each. The number of States in the United States, and 
the one having the most miles of railroads. How many Political Parties have 
existed in the United States. 

A COMPLETE HISTORY OF OUR GOVERNMENT BY ADMINIS- 
TRATIONS, POLITICAL PARTIES AND CONGRESSES, 

FROM WASHINGTON TO HARRISON. 

The latest United States Map, printed in colors, covers the entire back, and 
is the best published. It alone sells for $5.00. The Complete Reversible Map, 
(printed on both sides) is 3 feet 10 inches by 5 feet 6 inches, mounted on rollers 
top and bottom, with tapes on side. These two maps sell separately for $10.00. 

This map should be in every library, office and school, and is well worth the 
price. 

THIS GREAT DOUBLE MAP 

is sent by express, prepaid, and safe delivery guaranteed, to any address in the 
United States. It can be mailed but it is much safer by express. Name your 
nearest express office. 

UNDERSTAND FULLY that ALL CHARGES are prepaid by express 

or mail, and safe delivery and perfect satisfaction guaranteed or 

MONEY REFUNDED. 

PRICE, $5.00. AGENTS WANTED. 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, 

CHICAGO. PUBLISHER. NEW YORK. 


















































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